


The Devil Who Loved Her

by Devi_the_Wynter_Wytch



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Chloe KNOWS, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post S3 Ep. 24, Protective Chloe Decker, Protective Lucifer, Romance, Wingfic, slow burn friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-05 04:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18358844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devi_the_Wynter_Wytch/pseuds/Devi_the_Wynter_Wytch
Summary: Having believed for so long that her partner was simply somewhat self-deluded, monumentally narcissistic and prone to communicating via Biblical metaphors, Chloe struggles with accepting that Lucifer is The Devil.  What has been seen, however, cannot be unseen.   But there are serious repercussions that stem from having witnessed the Divine and consequences that Chloe could not have foreseen in her wildest of dreams.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete. Those of you who are familiar with my writing on this site and others know that I do not begin posting a story, ever, until the final word has been written and the complete fic has been beta read; I will not leave you hanging with an unfinished fic. It simply takes me a while to upload my stories and fix all of the formatting errors that occur when I do so. My laptop and AO3 are incompatible. As such, I plan to post a few chapters at a time until I get it all up. I should have it all up within 2 to 3 weeks.  
> For further notes, see below.

 

 

** The Devil Who Loved Her **

**Author** : Devi the Wynter Wytch

 **Summary** :  Having believed for so long that her partner was simply somewhat self-deluded, monumentally narcissistic and prone to communicating via Biblical metaphors, Chloe struggles with accepting that Lucifer is The Devil.  What has been seen, however, cannot be unseen.   But there are serious repercussions that stem from having witnessed the Divine and consequences that Chloe could not have foreseen in her wildest of dreams.

 **Pairings** : Lucifer/Chloe, some references to past Chloe/Dan, Chloe/Marcus Pierce aka Cain, and Lucifer/OFCs and OMCs

 **Rating** : E (explicit) for consensual, slightly graphic male/female sexual relations.  This is rated E for a very good reason, and I cannot stress this enough.  This devolves into something of a smut-fest in the latter chapters, but it is, hopefully, well done smut with a higher purpose that’s tied together in the end.

 **Status** : Complete; 12 total Chapters

 **Length** : Novella Sized     **Word count** :  34,309 with Notes and Warnings

 **Timeline** : This story begins approximately five days after S3 Ep 24, A Devil of My Word—the episode in which Chloe is presented with unassailable proof that the Divine exists and that Lucifer is truly Satan.

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own any of these characters or the universe created by the talented writers and creators of the show I love so much.  I reap no financial rewards from writing fan fiction.  I do this solely for my own pleasure and, hopefully, feedback.

 **Speaking of Feedback** , Yes, please!  This is my very first foray into the realm of _Lucifer_ fan fiction, so any feedback you care to give is helpful.  However, please be fair with your feedback.  Constructive criticism is appreciated.  Flames are not.  Please heed the warnings. 

 **Notes and Warnings** : I am going largely by canon as it is portrayed in the three seasons of FOX shows spanning 2015 to 2018 as aired in the U.S. on Fox and Netflix with supplemental information from the King James Bible as necessary to fill in plot points.  I do play a bit fast and loose with some interpretations of said canon, though.  This fic is basically the conversation I wish Chloe and Lucifer would have.

Please note that I am a devout atheist, and I hold the rather firm opinion that The Holy Bible, and I capitalize it only because it’s considered grammatically correct to do so, is the Christian equivalent of the Giant Book of Fairy Tales, capitalized merely to underscore my point.  If you are easily offended, please skip this story.  Much of the discussion between Lucifer and Chloe as she struggles to understand the concept of Divinity is quite blasphemous.  God is not the hero here, and is, in fact, portrayed as distant, misogynistic, capricious, and authoritarian, an interpretation supported by the Bible itself.

Also, unlike a lot of my stories, this is very dialogue heavy with not much action.  You’ve been warned.  If this isn’t your cup of tea and you’re looking for something that’s got more action, a few car chases, a bit of violence, I completely understand.  This story ignores the allusions to the upcoming Season 4.

 **Beta:** Thanks to Hiro, Mai, Coop, and Edge.  I did some fine tuning, perhaps even a bit of tinkering, after this went to beta, so all remaining errors are my own.

 **Recommended Musical Accompaniment:** The Fountain: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack, by Clint Mansell

****

**Chapter 1:** “We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.”  **―** **Oscar Wilde**

“It’s all true….,” Chloe mumbled softly for the 300th? ...3000th? ...time.  She was no longer sure.  She was no longer even sure what day it was.  

Her thoughts were jumbled, discordant, non-linear.

She ran her tongue over her parched, chapped lips.  The tangy, brackish burn of the salt from the cold, gunmetal gray of the tidal spray stung her cracked lips enough for her to focus momentarily on the brief bite of pain.  She wriggled her butt deeper into the sand; the occasional cry of a small bird her only companion on the mostly deserted beach.

Today, like yesterday and the day before, was heavily overcast; had it not been, Chloe was certain that she would be badly sunburned at this point.  The strong L.A. sunlight of a bright day in mid-May was to be ignored to one’s own detriment, particularly if one were among the fairer-complected specimens who populated southern California. 

She sighed heavily, her thoughts only recently having begun to settle into some semblance of order.  Chloe prided herself on her ability to think rationally, to be the level-headed, logical voice of reason in any crisis.  That first day, she had thought she was finally getting a handle on things.  She had given her statement, held it together in front of her colleagues and superiors, turned in her gun and badge without comment as she was placed on administrative leave.  She was holding it together just fine.

Okay, Lucifer was the Devil; she supposed she could deal with that.  She had failed, however, to consider the ramifications of that single truth.

Chloe’s misplaced pride not only went out the window soon after that but fell sixteen flights, forcefully impacted the concrete, and was then repeatedly run over by a deviant jacked-up monster truck/tank hybrid when Linda showed up at her place late Tuesday morning.  She had calmly informed Chloe that she was “in the know” as it were and offered to answer any questions Chloe might have.  Lucifer had not only sent her but had also waived doctor/patient privilege. 

Chloe sighed again and ran her sandy, salty fingers through her lank, oily hair, tugging hard, using the flare of pain to ground her thoughts.  She then looked at her fingers, noting that sand was deeply embedded into the beds below her once neatly trimmed nails; she considered briefly that she should do something about that before grabbing the neck of the nearly empty bottle of wine and taking a healthy slug.

Lucifer would have been appalled at her choice in alcoholic refreshment.  After all, it was affectionately called Three Buck Chuck for a very good reason.  Damn inflation.  Chloe missed the good old days when it had been Two Buck Chuck. 

She took a smaller drink with a shrug.  She probably should have felt guilty about drinking off and on throughout the day, but she really couldn’t have cared less.  It wasn’t like she was going into work tomorrow.  She had discharged her firearm and killed at least two of Pierce’s henchmen at the loft; she had critically wounded a third, and, at this point, his chances of recovery weren’t looking good.  She was on paid administrative leave for the foreseeable future, likely between two and four weeks, while waiting for investigation, forensics, and IA to issue a final report stating that Chloe’s use of deadly force had been justified.  Her police brethren employed the slang term “righteous kill.” Chloe, herself, regarded it as a mark in the loss column whenever she had to draw a weapon, much less use it; there was nothing righteous about taking a human life.

She was getting past the point of tipsy now, becoming too introspective and a bit maudlin, but she couldn’t seem to stop the awkward flow of thoughts once they started.  In retrospect she shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have given into the temptation after having been in the dark for so long, to demand everything, every single piece of information that had been kept from her for three years…everything Linda knew about the crazy Biblical shit that had taken place over the last three years—always at the periphery of Chloe’s knowledge.  It was too much at one time; she knew that now, and Linda had tried, several times, to dissuade her, insisting that she needed time to process.  But Chloe had been adamant, insisted that she wanted to know, had the right to know and couldn’t even fucking begin to process without having all of the facts.  She had demanded all of it, everything that had been withheld for the last three fucking years--all of the facts.

She had them now.  Oh God, did she have them now.

And … well shit, now that she knew God was real and Lucifer’s Father, she was going to have to find another somewhat blasphemous pejorative to use, particularly in Lucifer’s presence. 

She thought about that, slowly…carefully…, and marveled silently that despite all of this absolutely insane Biblical bullshit that it had never even occurred to her, not even for a second, to just walk away.

**********

She had walked away once, and she wasn’t about to do it again.  The pain and longing in Lucifer’s eyes had nearly torn her asunder.  Following the Big Reveal, as she was calling it, at least in the somewhat saner corridors of her own mind, she had backed away, eyes fixed on the grievous monstrosity before her, trying desperately to reconcile that image with the sinfully rich, sensual, sexually tempting British playboy she had come to know as her partner.  Unable to process the disconnect, she had staggered out of the loft and collapsed in an ungainly heap, sliding down the cool, rough concrete façade of the building that had almost become her… their … tomb. 

“ _One minute_ ,” she had promised herself in a choked whisper.  She would allow herself sixty seconds to fall apart, and then she was going back in there.  Already she could hear the high-pitched shrieking whine of police and ambulance sirens; they were three, maybe four minutes out—tops, given rush hour traffic in L.A.  Whether Dan and Ella had called in the SWAT team, her garbled plea for backup having been understood, or whether people in the neighborhood had heard the sounds of repeated gunfire, Chloe didn’t know and wasn’t about to sit on her ass on the sidewalk trying to figure it out.  She was a seasoned detective, after all, and maybe more to the point, she was a mother.  Sometimes you had to just get through one crisis at a time.  Chloe pulled herself together through an act of steel will and iron control that had seen her through some of the worst murders L.A. had to offer up.

There was nothing to be done now but damage control.  She and Lucifer had but a few, precious minutes to get their stories straight and for Lucifer to conceal his devilish visage; if he couldn’t, she was going to have to get him out of there—fast, before all hell broke loose—literally.

On legs that felt like lead weights dragging through deep water, she tottered somewhat unsteadily back into the foyer only to discover…

“Amenadiel!” she exclaimed with undisguised shock. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2** :  “I would rather be a devil in alliance with truth, than an angel in alliance with falsehood.” 

―  **Ludwig Feuerbach,** **[The Essence of Christianity](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1968844)**

 

“Amenadiel, what are you…?”  She looked around, speechless.  Gone were the bloodied feathers that had made it appear as if Pierce’s men had conducted some sort of mass swan massacre in the foyer of a deserted art gallery.  The otherworldly, curved dull black-gray of the knife…Maze’s knife, her mind supplied numbly, … that had been half embedded in Pierce’s chest, was gone.  In its place was a similar, but unremarkable blade that somewhat resembled the rather plain curved, stainless steel pizza knife currently sitting in the jumbled junk drawer of Chloe’s kitchen, where ladles, spatulas, a turkey baster and other assorted kitchenware gathered to be forgotten. 

“How did you…?” she stopped, unable to frame the right question.  How did you clean up an entire crime scene in under a minute?  How did you make Lucifer simply disappear?  How did you even freakin’ get here?

“I can stop time,” Amenadiel supplied helpfully.  “What appears to you to be the work of mere seconds has been almost a day for us.”

Her brain clicked and rebooted, hard.  Lucifer was The Devil.  Therefore his brother really was an angel of God.

“Humans tend to act rashly and with complete disregard to the sanity of their actions when confronted with the Divine.  There was a time, many ages ago, when we walked freely among you on Father’s command, but…things change,” he said, at once wistful and a bit sad.

“You mean like when Lot, trying to gain God’s favor, offered up his virgin daughters to be raped and killed by an angry mob to protect a couple of _so-called_ Angels of the Lord?” Chloe asked sarcastically with a sharp note of derision tinging her voice and maybe a small touch of hysteria.  “From what I’ve seen so far, you _Angels_ are more than capable of taking care of yourselves,” Chloe sneered derisively, shock wearing off as anger regarding this entire situation rose up in a wave threatening to submerge any equilibrium she had managed thus far.  Amenadiel was helping Lucifer now, and while she appreciated that, she wasn’t going to forget anytime soon that he had lied to her, to her very face.  She wondered what would have happened had he been honest with her so long ago.  Would she have believed him if he’d confirmed that Lucifer was the Devil?

Amenadiel had the good grace to look supremely uncomfortable, but nodded curtly all the same.  “So you see, Chloe, we had no choice.  When Lucifer called, prayed for angelic assistance, we had to come; we had to remove all presence of the Heavenly, any indication that a celestial being and the condemned son of Adam fought a Divine battle to the death.  And you must recount the version of events I provide you, for humanity’s sake as well as Lucifer’s.” 

He reached for her then as if to place the palm of his hand over her forehead.  Correctly intuiting his intent, Chloe flinched and stepped back.

“What will happen to my memories?  The real ones?” she demanded, steel lacing her voice. 

“Nothing,” Amenadiel murmured with an irritated sigh.  “Lucifer insists that we not tamper with your true memories or in any way interfere with your free will.  So, the new memories I am about to give you will exist simultaneously with your real memories; you will remember them, but you will recognize them for the falsity they are.  Truthfully, it would have been much easier to implant the new memories and explain away the phantoms of any prior memories as odd delusions resulting from the trauma of your being shot, but Lucifer would not allow it.”

Chloe’s stomach twisted in revulsion.  That Amenadiel even had the nerve to insinuate that Lucifer’s brethren even considered invading her mind and meddling with her thoughts, ideas, memories…it was a violation as repugnant as rape.  And the fact he didn’t recognize that made it all the worse.  She sensed one of Lucifer’s deals in the offing, and she spared a moment to be oddly grateful to her partner for protecting her from his fucked-up family.

“Where is Lucifer?” Chloe demanded.  “Is he alright?”

“Our sister, Azrael, took him home.”

Azrael…The Angel of Death.  Chloe knew that name; a lifetime ago she had been pulled out of public school and enrolled in a private, Catholic school for several years when Penelope Decker’s adolescent daughter became a target of the paparazzi, even as the B lister’s star climbed in the Hollywood tabloids.  She swallowed, throat dry.

“Did he at least go to Heaven?” Chloe asked, heart twisting, suddenly trying to hold back tears.  Surely Lucifer had redeemed himself enough?  She grabbed Amenadiel’s outstretched hand in a fierce grip.  “Please tell me he isn’t in Hell.”

“Azrael took him home, Chloe … to Lux.  He’s in the penthouse where Azrael and Gabriel can heal him,” Amenadiel said, a tight strain creeping into his voice.

“Heal him?” Chloe asked wonderingly.  “Is he…”

“Chloe!” Amenadiel’s commanding near shout derailed her inquiry into Lucifer’s current medical condition.  “I cannot hold back time forever.  There must be balance in the universe; the sun rotates at a fixed rate; the planets revolve around their stars; time moves forward.  I am already beginning to lose control.  Time is beginning to stutter forward!” he exclaimed tightly.

And Chloe remembered the sirens.  She heard them again, muted inside the loft, but clear nonetheless and closer.  The angels acted outside of time.  Clearly humans did not, or Chloe would still be frozen, ass planted firmly on the sidewalk.  Well, the fluttering of movement in her peripheral vision made sense; the other angels must be re-checking everything and fine tuning the last of the evidence.  The real test would come when the LA forensics team took this place apart.

Chloe could see now the physical manifestations of Amenadiel’s struggle; at this point it was clear he was no longer able to stop time, merely slow it to some extent.  Perspiration sheened his cleanly shaven head and sweat beaded his upper lip; deep lines of concentration etched a painful look of determination across the tableau of his features. 

“If we’re going to do this,” he said as he held his hand out toward her forehead, “it must be now.”

Chloe nodded and stepped forward.  To protect Lucifer, she would do this.

*********

Chloe sighed again and took another long pull of cheap wine.  At least it wasn’t alcohol fortified bum wine.  Lucifer really would have an apoplectic fit if it were.  She smirked as she imagined him watching her slug back some Mad Dog or even worse, if that were at all possible, some Wild Irish Rose, which even she had to admit, both looked and tasted like someone had dissolved a package of Halls cough drops in a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

She had told the story Amenadiel had provided, most of it consistent with the facts: how Charlotte had been investigating Pierce, the attempt on Dan’s life, the ambush at the loft…  The only significant divergence, really, was the new forensic evidence that showed Pierce fell on his own bad-ass looking knife while he and Lucifer had been fighting.  Chloe had then allegedly turned him over to try to resuscitate him, to no avail.  She had been surprised to discover her clothes had appropriate smears of Pierce’s blood on them to corroborate a CPR attempt.  The scene had also been staged to appear as if Pierce’s men had turned on each other and the memories of the surviving henchmen had been appropriately manipulated to support this version of events. 

Best of all, Sergeant Villanova, head of the forensic IT Department, was reportedly wetting herself in glee; officers setting up a perimeter and performing a general search had turned up Pierce’s getaway car, which contained a very incriminating laptop, several passports and fake IDs, a one way plane ticket to Venezuela, and bank account records showing millions in illegal accounts stashed in the Cayman Islands.  LAPD and the FBI were now working a joint sting operation to take down the entire Sinnerman network.

The case that Chloe was certain was going to end her career now had her on the fast track to make Detective Sergeant well before she was 40.  Unbelievable.

She truthfully reported that she had lost track of Lucifer in the aftermath of the whole debacle.  She heard from Ella, though, that Officer Angelle had driven Lucifer to St. Vincent’s Medical Center (she recalled snorting coffee up her nose at that point), where he had been treated and released.  She wondered idly if Officer Angelle’s first name was Azrael. 

Lucifer, too, had given a statement largely corroborating Chloe’s version of events, courtesy of Amenadiel, that is.  Chloe wondered how a man who doesn’t lie managed to spin that complete and utter pile of horse shit.  Then again, Lucifer was so damn charming and smooth, without uttering a single lie, he could sell cocaine to El Chapo, and for top dollar at that.  When the investigation died down, she vowed to pull up a copy of Lucifer’s statement, for sheer entertainment purposes.  She was also curious as to what discrepancies he had inserted.  They both knew that if their statements matched too closely, that they would look extremely suspicious, like they were synching up their stories in an act of criminal collusion.

She took another long pull on the wine, emptying it.  She tossed the bottle down next its mates sitting placidly at her feet and shivered.  Even with the alcohol infusion, she was starting to get cold, the temperature dropping profoundly as the sun began to go down.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**   “We have never heard the devil's side of the story, God wrote all the book.” ―  **Anatole France**

 

“Here,” a sharp bark that was quickly followed by a ratty, old balled-up blanket being tossed at her head had Chloe fumbling awkwardly to acclimate to reality.

Maze plonked herself ungracefully next to Chloe and handed her another bottle of wine, keeping one back for herself.  As Chloe wrapped the blanket over her shoulders, Maze viciously twisted the top off of her bottle, tapped her bottle against Chloe’s, which was half buried in the sand while Chloe covered up, laughed out an insincere “Cheers,” and promptly drank a third of the bottle in three quick gulps.

Chloe stared at the other woman open-mouthed.  No, not woman—demon.  She felt a frisson of fear involuntarily shiver up her spine.  This wo … demon had babysat Trixie, lived in the same house with both her and her daughter, taken her child trick or treating. 

“Nothing’s changed ya’ know,” Maze said awkwardly.  “I’m still the same as I was before; just now you know I’m not human.”

And Chloe did know that.  She had not only discussed that ad nauseum with Linda but it was also one of the conclusions she had already reached in her own mind over the last few days.  Knowing and _knowing,_ however, were two very different things.  It wasn’t until this moment that Chloe finally felt the tense knot inside of herself relax and fully acknowledge that everything was going to be okay … eventually … as she looked at Maze, really looked at her, and saw only her… friend?  Frenemy?  She offered a tremulous smile, unscrewed her bottle of wine, calmly returned Maze’s “Cheers,” and took a healthy swig before placing the bottle back in the sand.

“What are you doing here, Maze?” Chloe asked curiously, a shallow uncertainty reflected in her voice.

“It’s my turn.  Linda took you in last night, got some kind of protein drink in you and put you on the couch.  Ella did it the night before that, and before that it was your douchebag ex when he came to pick up Trixie for a week or so.  Linda says it’s my turn, and I sorta owe you for the last couple months, so c’mon Decker, let’s get this over with,” Maze sighed dejectedly as she pushed herself up and motioned for Chloe to follow.  “Oh honestly,” she moaned theatrically when Chloe didn’t move.  “Why we just couldn’t stage one of those intervention things like they have on _Jerry Springer_ , I dunno.  But, Linda said you had to ‘get there in your own time,’ whatever that means.”

Chloe remained stubbornly seated, despite the fact that her ass and legs were mostly numb at this point, and the mention of a protein drink…hell, nutrition of any kind, had Chloe’s stomach seized up in a joyous rictus of Macarena dancing butterflies.

Maze huffed out a sigh, a most abject and put upon sigh, and sat back down, slugging down almost half of the remaining bottle of wine.  “What?” she finally snapped.

Chloe pressed her lips together and tried to quell her hunger pangs.  Here was a chance to get some information, and she had every intention of eagerly gleaning whatever information Maze would give her.  For not the first time she was very glad she had had the good sense to call Dan and have him take Trixie for the foreseeable future.  She had vague memories of a few short phone conversations with her daughter over the last couple of days, and while she missed Trixie desperately, she also knew that her very precocious and sensitive child did not need to see her mother in this condition.  And, Dan was grieving.  Charlotte’s death had hit him hard, probably harder than he was willing to admit.  Having Trixie gave him a reason to get up in the morning, to go out into the world, to carry on, at least superficially, with his life.  She remembered when her father died and she had no one, not even a pet, that needed her.  Her mother had… Well, this was not the time.

First things first.

“How’s Lucifer?” Chloe asked softly.

Maze sighed and finished her wine, tossing its small glass carcass over to nestle against the other pile of corpses Chloe had begun.

“Not that he and I are on speaking terms…but, from what I hear, he’s fine.  Gabriel, his self-righteous prick of a brother, and that shrill little harpy he calls sister patched him up.  Physically, he’s fine.”  Maze shrugged again and eyed Chloe’s mostly full bottle of wine.

“Why aren’t you speaking?” Chloe asked softly.  Lucifer had waived doctor/patient confidentiality, but Linda had told her that she wouldn’t break any other confidences, whether patient or friend. 

Maze sighed again.  “He thinks I betrayed him, and… he’s not completely wrong.  I went behind his back…it’s a long story.  Doesn’t matter.  What’s important is that I didn’t do the right thing until it was almost too late—until Cain almost killed Linda.  After conspiring with Amenadiel to send Lucifer back to hell, and I know you know about that ‘cause I told Linda she could tell you …” Maze sighed heavily, a long regretful exhalation.   “What is it you humans say—try to kill me once, shame on you…do it a second time and I’ll gut you, rip out your entrails and leave you for dead, right?” 

Chloe, semi-fluent in demon, simply nodded. 

“Look, let’s just say that he’s probably never gonna fully forgive me or trust me ever again and leave it at that, okay?”

Chloe nodded and went to take a mouthful of wine but before she could, Maze grabbed the bottle out of her hand and chugged half of the remaining contents. 

“It’s not just you, you know?” Chloe confided softly.  “So join the club and get in line.  Pierce…Cain…whatever, was a master manipulator.  He’d had a lot of time to get his lies down pat.  Hell, I almost married the guy.  Even after Lucifer warned me about him, and my own gut was doing a roiling jitterbug and screaming “Danger Will Robinson, Danger,” I just put on blinders and trotted merrily forward.”

“Decker. You’re making even less sense than usual, gotta tell ya’.” 

Chloe smiled.  “It’s a pop culture thing.  We’ll have to do a Lost In Space Marathon sometime.”

Maze shrugged disinterestedly.  “Whatever.”

But underneath that Chloe thought she caught an undercurrent of hope, like maybe the demon wanted things to go back to normal soon too.  Before that could happen, though, Maze was gonna have to make things right with Trixie.

“Look, Decker.  I like you, sorta.  At least I like ya’ better than early on, when I was considering killing you in your sleep.”

“Uhhh…Thanks?” Chloe offered cautiously.

“Don’t mention it,” the demon replied with a grin and a gulp of wine.  “Anyway, even though ya’ didn’t ask, I’m gonna give you some advice.”

“What’s that?” Chloe asked, gulping a drink of wine before Maze had a chance to finish the bottle.

“Get your head outta yer ass, Decker.” Maze said harshly, all traces of lighthearted banter, meager as they were, completely gone now.

“Excuse me?” Chloe demanded.

“You like Lucifer, right? ...care about him?”

“Of course!” Chloe said, amazed that there was ever any question.

“Then get your head outta your ass and go and see him before he’s gone,” Maze said, finishing off the wine in the next breath.

“He wouldn’t!” Chloe exclaimed.  “He promised me after that whole Candy Vegas thing that he wouldn’t up and run away again,” Chloe said, getting angrier by the second.

Maze rolled her eyes so far, Chloe was surprised that one of them didn’t pop out.  Her mind took a tiny segue at that point as she idly wondered if demons could really do that.

“Are you completely stupid, _detective_?” And the way Maze said it, unlike Lucifer, the title held no affection, no note of light banter…no, it implied Chloe was a complete imbecile.  But before Chloe could sputter her outrage, Maze pressed on.  “Whatever else he was, Cain was human.  Lucifer broke his Father’s First Celestial Commandment; he killed a human,” Maze said contemptuously.

Chloe struggled with that, surely….?

Maze sighed and shook her head.  “Unbelievable,” she muttered at Chloe’s cluelessness.  “Best case scenario, the Old Bastard cuts off Lucifer’s wings and throws him straight back into Hell, right into the lake of fire.  Worst case scenario, Lucifer is unmade, cast into the Void…nothingness.”

“Lucifer has wings?” Chloe offered softly, the final pieces of the puzzle about what had occurred at the loft starting to slip together into a final, cohesive whole.  The whole picture remained elusive, tantalizingly just out of reach.

“That’s your take away from this…Lucifer has wings?  Good talk, Decker,” Maze said harshly as she moved to push herself up.

“Wait, please,” Chloe begged.  Hadn’t Linda said _something_ about wings?  Chloe was certain she had, but three years’ worth of information condensed into a two hour conversation really was too much to bear.  “I can’t remember; most of what happened at the loft is just a blur to me.  Maze, _please_ ,” Chloe begged.

Maze ran her tongue across her teeth.  “Fuck,” she swore harshly.  “Fine.  Yeah, Lucifer shielded you with his wings when Pierce and his men opened fire on the two of you, otherwise, vest or no vest, your corpse would be so riddled with bullets right now you’d be an unrecognizable hunk of oozing hamburger.”

The bloody feathers and the plethora of spent bullet casings littering the marble floor of the loft now made sense.  Chloe had been so focused on trying to deal with the fact that Lucifer was the literal devil and the entire paradigm shift that had rocked the foundations of her entire belief system that she had brushed those facts aside, her mind unable to think rationally for more than a few minutes at a time before she was back to staring at the tide.  Thankfully as the shock wore off her periods of lucidity where rational thought was possible were becoming longer.

But Maze wasn’t finished.  “So, you should probably, at least, I dunno, say thanks.  Isn’t that what you humans do?  Amenadiel says that they pulled eighty-seven bullets outta Lucifer’s wings.”

Chloe digested that little nugget of information slowly, guilt clawing savagely at her innards.  He must have been in so much pain.

“God really wouldn’t punish Lucifer, would he?  I mean, it was self-defense.”

“No, Decker, it wasn’t.  Lucifer got you to safety and then went back to kill Cain.”

Chloe offered the demon a look of utter confusion, which Maze misinterpreted.

“Amenadiel filled me in on everything, just in case your miracle status fucked up the memory transfer thing.  We’re all supposed to watch you in case something up there,” and here Maze tapped her index finger against her temple, “goes like … supernova or something,” she shrugged indifferently trying to hide the concern in her eyes.

Chloe silently filed that away for later.

“But he would have come after us.  Both of us.  Pierce wasn’t the kind of guy to just give up on a vendetta.  He was the Sinnerman, for fuck’s sake; that’s not the sort of guy who has any qualms about eliminating people he thinks can hurt him.  Besides, Linda said Uriel tried to kill me, and God didn’t punish him,” Chloe said desperately.

“Didn’t he?” Maze inquired archly.  “He sure as hell didn’t save him, either, now did He?  He could have sent Michael or Gabriel to drag his son’s winged ass back to Heaven, prevented him from doing any damage.  But no, the manipulative prick put Lucifer in a position to do it for him…forced him to kill his own brother to save your life.  Talk about a dick move.  Uriel is unmade; God’s fucking Celestial Law is upheld, and Lucifer bears the burden of having killed his own brother for all of eternity, and let’s not forget the most important thing--God’s hands are clean.  Oh yeah…win/win all the way around,” Maze snarled contemptuously.  “Word of advice, _detective_ … don’t put too much faith in all of that God is Love shit that gets peddled around on Sundays.  God is a cold, unfeeling prick.  Remember,” and Maze paused significantly to let her point sink in fully, “history is written by the victor.”

Chloe nodded dumbly, her thoughts spinning.  The way she was feeling now, adrift, lost, numb on the inside-- this would be the death of their partnership if she let it go on much longer.  There were questions that only Lucifer could answer—things they had to hash out between them.  She’d crawled away like a frightened animal and hidden long enough.  This was not who she was.  When Malcolm had taken Trixie to use as human leverage, she had not cowered away, crawled off to lick her wounds.  And by God, she wasn’t going to do it now.  “I need to see Lucifer,” she murmured softly.

“Duh, Decker,” Maze replied sarcastically.  “But for fuck’s sake, take a shower first,” Maze groused as she wrinkled her nose, pushed herself to a standing position and began walking toward their condo, all the while muttering viciously about the evils associated with getting sand out of leather.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:** “ **Yahweh:**  You've been unhappy because you've desired things that cannot be.

  
**Lucifer:**  That's what desire IS. The need for what we can't have. The need for what's readily available is called greed.”   
―  **Mike Carey,** **[Lucifer, Vol. 11: Evensong](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/146587)**

 

Chloe had taken Maze’s advice, and after a long, hot shower where she washed her hair three times and shaved everything twice, she finally emerged feeling somewhat human.  She used her time in the shower to rehearse what she wanted to say to Lucifer.  There was no way in hell she was going into this completely unprepared. 

She slipped on an old pair of faded Levis, a much loved and washed AC/DC t-shirt, and a heavy flannel shirt she had that had been her father’s.  The checked Abercrombie and Fitch had been the nicest flannel John Decker had owned, a gift from his wife, and after his death, Chloe had salvaged her father’s favorite camping shirt from the Hefty bag full of clothes her mother intended to donate to Goodwill.  She wore it to remember her father and when she needed a little extra courage to face a personal crisis.

She figured bearding the Devil in his lair called for heavy cotton/polyester reinforcements.  She was fairly certain the correct colloquial phrase was bearding the lion in its lair, but … Lucifer was far more dangerous than any mere lion.  Not that she was afraid of him, exactly.  Physically, she knew Lucifer would never hurt her.  But, they were about to tackle three years’ worth of conversations involving their partnership, numerous trust issues, and the nature of the universe.  Chloe was too upset, and Lucifer was too volatile, to do this without metaphorical bloodshed.  The irony being that their current wounds would hurt more and bleed constantly until they had this conversation; still, there was never going to be a good time for this. 

They were going to have to hurt each other in order to heal each other. 

And always, in the back of her mind was a constant, wrenching fear that this would be the last time she ever saw Lucifer.  She couldn’t stand up to God, but Lucifer had been doing it since before the first humans had been cast out of Eden.  It was selfish of her to hope that if they fixed things that Lucifer would fight that much harder to stay.  But hope she did.  He had told her and shown her in so many ways that she was important to him, that their partnership was important to him.  Would it be enough?

After a quick ham sandwich and a single sized cup of Greek yogurt, Chloe found her most comfortable pair of Crocs flip flops and called an Uber.  Normally she’d wear her heeled boots, unwilling at the precinct to let Lucifer absolutely tower over her.  But, who was she kidding, really?  She was 5’6” and Lucifer was easily 6’3”; she may as well be comfortable.  It was only 8pm, but it was already dusk.  Lux wouldn’t be crowded, yet.  This might be her last chance.

Chloe’s loose ponytail slipped over her left shoulder as she bent forward to tip the Uber driver.  Exiting the small, white Prius, she waved at Antonio, the burliest of the three bouncers, as she entered Lux, surprised to see a long line already forming outside the club.  She didn’t look like she was trolling for dates, and no one stopped her as she made her way to the elevator, silently punching in the code for the penthouse.  She was braced for white sheets and packing crates.  Instead, Lucifer sat at his piano, playing something soft and gentle, a crystal decanter and a single tumbler sitting on the piano lid next to a pair of brightly polished silver cufflinks; she would bet a month’s salary that they were platinum, silver being too pedestrian for her immaculately tailored partner.  Braced for the worst, she took a moment just to admire him, to imprint him on her memory.  She would, futilely, battle God Himself to keep Lucifer here, but regardless, she had no illusions that she could win.

He was dressed in charcoal gray trousers and a wine red, pearl buttoned silk dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to mid forearm.  He was barefoot, and his vest and suitcoat hung, lazily draped over the back of the leather sofa, still in their plastic dry cleaner’s wrappings and attached to their hangers.  His hair was coiffed to its usual perfection, and it was clear he was getting ready to play the charming host of the city’s trendiest nightclub. 

“Hello, Detective,” he murmured, only the slight stiffness in his spine giving away some of his discomfort.  Otherwise, he continued to play flawlessly.  But underneath his carefully cultivated façade, she could see a taut thinness to his profile, apprehension mixed with too much adrenaline and too little sleep.  He was as eager (not) for this conversation as she was.

“It’s beautiful,” Chloe murmured softly, pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind.  She had not come here to study him.

“Brahms,” Lucifer replied absently, “Piano Concerto Number One.  Please have a seat, Detective, unless you’re preparing to tell me I no longer have a place in your life.”  He kept his gaze averted, waiting tensely to see what she’d do.

Chloe deliberately walked over to the bar and pulled a Coke Zero from the mini fridge.  She wanted to give Lucifer every indication that she was staying, settling in for the long talk, but she was certain that if she had one more glass of wine or any other form of alcohol, her liver was going to abscond and apply for new employment at the Claussen Dill company. 

She then meandered slowly over to the doorway leading into Lucifer’s impressive library where she plonked herself down unceremoniously in the middle of the most comfortable sofa she had ever sat on.  She kicked off her flip flops and stretched her toes out on the ottoman directly toward the flames of the gas fireplace Lucifer always kept going in that room, ostensibly for the benefit of the books.

The notes seemed to flow seamlessly as Lucifer completed the piece before ceasing on a long, low note.  It sounded more than a bit ominous to Chloe’s ears, her nerves undoubtedly playing tricks on her hearing.  It wasn’t long before he joined her, leaning against the archway of the alcove, studying her.  After a few minutes, Chloe grew frustrated.  “Well, sit down,” she demanded, unwilling to get a crick in her neck from constantly looking up.

“Where would you like me to sit?” he inquired softly, clearly trying to be deferential to her comfort level.  She was in the middle of the sofa; he either had to sit next to her or in one of the wingback chairs to either end of the sofa.  The question “Are you afraid of me?” hung on the air, silent and unseen but deadly, nevertheless.

Chloe swallowed hard before taking a deep breath and patting the cushion to her right.  Lucifer approached slowly, like a skittish animal ready to flee at the slightest provocation, before sitting.

“So,” Chloe began hesitantly, “you’re the devil, like _The Devil_.”

“I believe we’ve established that, yes.”

Chloe laughed softly and shook her head.  “I made four significant realizations over the last four days; this is the first, and believe you me, it has a whole lotta’ baggage that comes along with it.”

“Five,” Lucifer interjected. 

“What?”

“The ambush at the loft was Monday afternoon.  Today is Saturday.  It’s been five days, not four.”

Biting her lip, she let out a nearly silent sigh.  Well, that explained the crowded club.  “Doesn’t matter.  Show me again,” she demanded.

Lucifer stood so quickly, she was amazed he didn’t topple over; anyone less graceful would have.  He whirled to face her, the firelight behind him illuminating him like the Lord of Hell.  His anger was palpable, and banked flames marred his normally deep chocolate eyes as he hissed, “I am not a sideshow freak performing for your amusement, Detective.”

Chloe had known this was going to get messy.  First blood to Chloe Decker.

“Believe me, Lucifer, I didn’t ask out of some desire for a cheap thrill.  When I saw you, I was terrified, and I have never, ever been afraid of you, even when you threw a grown man through a reinforced safety glass window.  I need to know why; I need to understand.  What I felt…it wasn’t rational.”

“Of course not.  Humans are pre-programmed to fear the Devil; it’s as much a part of your genetic coding as your eye color.  Consider it a gift from dear old Dad.  And while you may be a miracle, you are clearly not immune.”

“But, I want to be,” Chloe insisted adamantly.

“Why?” Lucifer asked, genuinely curious, cocking his head slightly to the left…that little quirk he did when he was trying to figure out some seemingly complex human behavior, one that baffled him, one that he seemed certain, if he could just gain the right visual perspective, all would become clear.

“What do you mean, why?” Chloe countered.  “Because you’re my partner and my friend.  You can’t have trust within a relationship if there’s fear.”

“No one knowingly seeks out the Devil for friendship, Detective,” Lucifer replied harshly, the look of confusion quickly being replaced by something hard and cold, shielding his soul from her, his eyes cooling and hardening to flinty, matte black onyx.

“I do,” was Chloe’s instantaneous reply, “and don’t you dare even think about demeaning me.  I am not “no one.””

“Are you certain about this?” he asked softly—one more chance to back out.

No, she wasn’t at all certain about this, not at all.  In point of fact, she didn’t want to do this, but she had to—for both their sakes and to salvage their friendship.  Chloe Jane Decker had never backed down from anything in her life and wasn’t about to start now.

She nodded and again patted the seat next to her.  He sat again, turning to face her.

“Very well,” he murmured, summoning the full fires of hell to blaze in his eyes.  After a moment to allow her to come to grips with that much, he allowed his visage to change, skin melting and distorting, charred a fierce red and black, bones in his cheeks and brow becoming more prominent, more alien, more, dare she think it, almost snake like, smooth and deadly.  There was something inherently sinister and repulsive about the malformed creature before her, striking a deep, primal chord of fear so strong inside of her that it went beyond terror.

It was taking all she had not to flinch, hell …to run screaming … but she refused to give into the primordial urge to fear the boogeyman, to be afraid of the dark.  That’s all it was, she reminded herself.  Truthfully, she had seen burn victims and accident victims who, technically, looked worse, their faces burned off, muscle and bone hanging loosely attached or no longer affixed at all, faces morphed and twisted into a rictus of agony.  Added to that was the fact that he was watching her, each minute expression and facial tic, waiting for her to flinch, to recoil, to prove him right.  She stiffened her spine and hardened her resolve.  She’d be damned first.

It was just Lucifer she reminded herself; she chanted it like a mantra over and over again silently in her mind.   And as he began to lose the mask of hatred and defiance and allow just the smallest tinge of hope to creep onto his scarred visage, the revulsion faded, diminishing in small increments as the long moments passed until it eventually faded to nothing, as if it never was. 

This was Lucifer, and it didn’t matter what he looked like.  She raised a hand and reached hesitantly toward his cheek, her hand hovering uncertainly in the air between them.

“Is it … If I touch you, will it cause you pain?” she whispered, as his crimson, claw-like hand closed ever so cautiously around her fingers, skin hot and smooth to the touch, waiting for the instinctive recoil he knew would come.  When nothing happened, he grasped her fingers loosely, and together they pressed her hand softly against his scarred face.  Chloe couldn’t be certain with the strange, otherworldly scarlet blaze in his eyes, but she thought he was blinking back tears.  Had no one ever touched him with kindness?  She stroked oh so gently.

“Not anymore,” Lucifer sighed on a released breath, an exhale held long past when it should have been released.  She made a noise of concern, one all mothers know without ever being taught. 

“You must understand, Chloe, that time passes differently in hell.”

“How long?” she demanded.

“Eons,” he whispered.

“Your Father is a grade A prick, Lucifer.”

He laughed softly, and seeing no signs of revulsion on her face, he slid her hand forward, across his lips, and tenderly kissed her palm before releasing her hand.  His face resumed the handsome form she was so accustomed to.

“So, it’s all true then?”

Lucifer quirked a well-shaped eyebrow.

“All that stuff in the Bible about you.  You were cast out of heaven for the sin of pride, tempted Eve with an apple, tempted Christ in the desert, Father of the Anti-Christ…all of that.”

Lucifer threw back his head and laughed--long and hard, and Chloe grinned just to hear his joyous laughter. 

“And precisely who would be the mother of this all-powerful Anti-Christ?  The only females I could actually breed with are my sisters, and we find incest even more abhorrent than most human cultures.  Trying to breed with a human would be like trying to create a hybrid from a fish and an apple.  I would have thought the immortal lifespan and the wings would be a dead giveaway—two vastly different species, Darling.  The whole concept of an Anti-Christ is nothing more than delusions created by the Roman Catholic Church to increase attendance on Sundays and increase already exorbitant donations.  Fill the pews and the coffers.  Fear sells,” Lucifer snorted derisively and rubbed his hands over his face, careful not to smear his eyeliner. 

“What about the Nephilim?” Chloe asked carefully.

“An oversight by Dear Old Dad that He corrected with the Great Flood; they all perished.  He then subtly altered human genetic coding so that no human would ever be able to reproduce with any of the angelic or demonic species.  It’s a large part of the reason human life-spans gradually became so much shorter than they used to be.  As to the rest of it, I think I did a study of the revised King James Bible back around the time of your Industrial Revolution and came to the conclusion that it was about 35% accurate. Yes, I was cast out of Heaven; perhaps it could be called pride.  I called it desire.  I wanted what Dad had given to humans so easily—free will.  He commanded all of us to revere and love his finest creation—humanity.  He set you above all of us.  We who had worked tirelessly to shape the universe to His Will, defended the Silver City from Demons and other creatures of the Darkness, His first creations to be cast aside and supplanted by this new creation who had accomplished nothing, understood nothing except how to chew and defecate.  I asked only for the free will to love you, **or not** , and revere you, **or not** , on my terms, when you had accomplished something of note, proven yourselves worthy of such respect and devotion.  He refused.  I rebelled,” Lucifer said simply with a small shrug as if this monumental event in the history of the universe was no more than a stubbed toe.

Lucifer took a long pull of the scotch Chloe hadn’t noticed he had brought with him.

“That sounds reasonable,” Chloe hazarded tentatively.

“I bloody well thought so.  For that Father was going to destroy me.  Mother convinced Him to cast me into Hell instead.  It was ….  There are no words in any human language to describe the fear, darkness and pain I was subjected to, the agony of being rejected by all those I thought loved me, the abandonment…”

Chloe grabbed his hand, and they lapsed into a brief, taut silence.

“Which was why,” Lucifer said after another long pull of his scotch, “when I had the opportunity to throw a demonic monkey wrench into my Father’s brilliant Divine Plan, I seized it with both hands.”

“Eve and the fruit of knowledge,” Chloe quoted.

“You humans and your euphemisms.  Yes, I certainly gave her the fruit of knowledge all right.  Several times, in fact!” Lucifer chortled like a six year old high on too much Halloween candy.

The smirk fell from Chloe’s face as realization dawned slowly.  “Euphemism…Lucifer, did you seduce Eve?  The Eve?” Chloe gasped.

“There really wasn’t much seduction required.  It wasn’t like Adam was getting the job done, honestly.”

Chloe buried her face in her hands not sure whether to laugh or weep.

“She would have left him eventually, you know.  Really, the irony of giving humanity free will and then punishing her for using it when Adam neglected her, treated her like garbage, couldn’t be bothered about her pleasure, her needs...  I taught her that she mattered.   I was a catalyst in the fall of humanity, nothing more.  It was bound to happen; Adam was a complete arsehole.  Have you ever heard whispers in some of the unpublished scriptures about a woman named Lilith?  According to Holy Scripture, Cain was “banished to the land of Nod; there he took a wife…”  Where do you all bloody think she came from?  She was Lilith, Adam’s first attempt at a mate.  She wanted nothing to do with his selfish arse and was banished from the Garden herself.”

Lucifer chuckled a tad viciously.  “As Above, so below, detective.  Father envisaged himself as the grand ruler of the Heavens with His devoted wife at his side, content with whatever scraps of affection He doled out at His whim, surrounded by his loyal, faithful, obedient children.  He planned the same for Adam and by extension Eve and their children.  It is the epitome of irony that Eve’s new knowledge of her worth and her understanding of free will is what both persuaded Adam to treat her like a true partner and brought down Father’s wrath upon humanity.”  Lucifer snorted in a pathetic sort of amusement.  But Chloe was not so amused.

“So all of that misogynistic bullshit in the Bible, making women property and second class citizens, that’s what, part of God’s fucking plan; humanity was supposed to mirror divinity?” Chloe exclaimed.

“Who knows?  It’s not like he shares anything about His Divine plan, at least not anymore; in the beginning, when He was feeling generous, He would share a few scraps here and there.  After a while, He just ignored us all.  It took Mum a few millennia to follow Eve’s example, but He expelled her from heaven and cast her into hell when she grew weary of his aloof indifference, of being relegated to the position of occasional plaything and companion.  Granted she showed her frustration by taking out her ire on humanity, a few plagues, a famine or two…  At least, that was her version of events,” Lucifer shrugged.

Chloe’s mind boggled, and it began to sink in even more how different they were.  It wasn’t merely that he wore a different face or ruled over Hell, which was, apparently, a real place.  He was older than recorded time, had lit the first stars, had seen the earth formed from a speck of dust, watched as life first dragged itself from the primordial ooze, seen the first dinosaurs walk the land as well as their extinction, witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations…it was too much for a single, small, human mind to grasp.  Their perspectives were completely incongruent.  Lucifer had shrugged not because he failed to see the significance of a few plagues and famines but because what were a few hundred thousand human lives in the course of human history?

“Wait….Lucifer,…if Adam was the first man, and Eve was the first woman, and there really was a Garden of Eden, then how is evolution possible?  Where do the dinosaurs fit in, and Neanderthals?  I mean Cain didn’t look like the missing link or some kind of ape.”

Lucifer chuckled until he wiped laughter tears from the corners of his eyes.  “Darling, you humans,…so binary in your thinking.  If x is true then y must be false,” he said merrily, a healthy dollop of his usual glee coloring his voice.

When Chloe continued to look puzzled, Lucifer took pity on her.  “You have grasped that Heaven and Hell exist; they are simply alternate planes of existence.  Call them alternate universes if you will.  Humans now also understand that there are trillions of other planets in this universe alone.  Why would you believe that this is the only planet able to sustain life, that Father did not create Eden elsewhere and allow life to evolve as it would with minimal interference elsewhere in the universe?  Not all worlds took His interest, you know, nor did all forms of life.  Humans simply developed much more slowly on this planet, evolving without much in the way of Divine input.”

“But then, how did Adam and Eve get here?”

“It was simple really, and it wasn’t Adam and Eve.  When He destroyed, let’s call it Earth 1.0, with a flood, he simply sent Azrael under cover of night to slice a portal between that world and this one, thus delivering Noah and his progeny along with their oral history onto Earth 2.0.  Their surroundings probably appeared somewhat different when they reached land, but I’m sure they attributed that to God and had no idea they had journeyed so far in space-time.  I doubt their simple minds were even capable of comprehending such distances.  Can you imagine the genetic permutations if all of humanity on this planet had descended from Noah and his progeny?"  Lucifer shuddered at the very thought of such inbreeding.  "Noah and his spawn interbred with the humans who had evolved naturally on this planet, and in time, they fulfilled Father's desire that they 'be fruitful and multiply'...perhaps too bloody much considering the current state of things.  I’ve no idea how he got Cain here, but that’s neither here nor there.  Honestly, where did you think the platypus came from?” Lucifer snickered, and Chloe was pretty certain he was snickering at humanity’s gullibility.

“Wow,” Chloe whispered with a soft, wry smile gracing her lips.

“Too much, darling?  I don’t want to overwhelm you, Detective.”

“No,” Chloe stuttered, “just a lot to take in.  I mean there’s a lot of baggage that comes with accepting that you’re The Devil,” and the way Chloe said that last, Lucifer could hear the capital letters in her voice.

“Really, Darling, I’ve made no secret of it.  I told you the first day we met that I’m The Devil,” Lucifer said lightly, a teasing lilt permeating the posh, British speech.

Second blood to Lucifer Morningstar.  Chloe went from 0 to 100 faster than even Lucifer’s suped up little Corvette with a tankful of high octane racing fuel.

“Yeah,” Chloe’s voice snapped out, volume and octave level having trebled in the last second; she was really yelling now.  “Yeah, you told me, knowing I didn’t believe you, knowing I’d never believe you until you showed me.  You could have proved it to me at any time, prevented this entire fucking fiasco, and you didn’t.”

If Chloe had expected Lucifer to be meek and apologetic, she clearly had another think coming.  Third blood to Chloe Decker.

“Why should I?” he roared back, jumping up to pace in front of the fire.  The flickering shadows cast his features in shades of hell and redemption.  “Did I ask you to prove that Beatrice was your spawn, that you had pushed her out of your womb nine years ago?” he demanded.  “Did I ask you to prove that you were devastated when your father was gunned down?  Did I ask you to prove anything, anything you ever told me, … anything at all?” he shouted back, livid; the flames in the fireplace danced higher, shooting a few feet forward outside the fireplace—eager fingers reaching for their master, and the room became stiflingly hot--the air pressure thick and oppressive as the environment reacted to the Lord of Hell’s rage.

A trickle of fear and sweat meandered down Chloe’s spine.  A large part of her, a very large part, wanted to flee or cower in the corner and cover her eyes, but she couldn’t do that.  If they were going to save their relationship—build back the trust between them, she had to believe that he wouldn’t hurt her, even accidentally; moreover, she had to show him that she believed it.  If she backed down, showed one small flinch, somehow, instinctively, she knew everything between them would be over.

Chloe girded every scrap of determination she had left and stood to face him.  “Why?” she shouted back.  “Because you knew I didn’t believe you; no sane person would.  Three years, Lucifer!  At any time duri…”

“Yes,” Lucifer snapped forcefully, cutting her off mid-tirade.  “Three years, Detective.  For three years you’ve seen me display incredible, inhuman feats of strength and speed, … get in and out of locked buildings, handcuffs, … coax the vilest, dirtiest secrets from the guilty and innocent alike, … die and come back to life.  I have proven my identity to you a hundred times over.  I’ve never lied to you, even when the truth was an unpalatable pill to swallow.” 

Lucifer paused to take a very deep breath and gave a commensurately equal sigh, expelling that same air and much of his rage.  The flames now quelled to the point where they were at least contained within the boundaries of the fireplace and the pressure on Chloe’s lungs eased.

“For three years,” he continued, voice still hard but not nearly as loud, “you dismissed each instance as a magic trick, as blood packs and bulletproof vests, lock picks or state of the art surveillance equipment, hypnotism or Father knows what else.  You saw my Devil face once; I know you did.  You knew what drove men to madness, to suicide.  You simply didn’t want to acknowledge it.  You had my blood and chose not to test it because you didn’t want to know.  Why would forcing you to acknowledge what you didn’t want to see have bettered our relationship?” 

“Oh, gee,” Chloe yelled, exasperated, “it might have kept me from almost marrying Cain, the world’s first murderer?”

“And just how would showing you my wings have made you see Cain for what he really was, Detective?  As if one had anything to do with the other!” he exclaimed snidely.  “Because the literal Devil _must_ be telling the truth!  Honestly, you spent more time investigating me at the beginning of our partnership than you spent looking into the man you planned to marry.  How is that my fault?  I warned you…repeatedly; you chose to ignore it.  You wanted to believe he was a good man, and so you did.  It’s not my place to interfere with humanity’s free will.”

Chloe gasped and felt her legs tremble, taking a step back to try and right her balance as if she had just been backhanded.  Lucifer had done so much more than just draw a bit of metaphorical blood.  She felt ripped open--gutted; he was partially…mostly…right, and it hurt, dammit!  She was a detective.  If Charlotte Richards could find that much damning evidence looking into Pierce…  With the databases and CI’s Chloe had at her disposal, what could she have found if she had taken the time to look, really look, into the man she agreed to marry, a man she had brought into her home and into her daughter’s life without so much as a cursory background check?

But Lucifer wasn’t finished yet, and what he said next hurt even more, a pain piercing through her … suspiciously near her heart.  “And, I wanted you to be happy, above all else.  He made you happy.  Knowing you…changed me for the better.  I thought it had done the same for him,” he finished on a soft sigh, almost a whisper.

He picked up the tumbler of scotch, drained it, and Chloe could see him contemplate hurling it into the fireplace, a tightly coiled aggression barely contained.  Instead, his gaze flicked to her, and he set it down with a loud plonk, a finality in the gesture Chloe didn’t want to examine too closely …if things went wrong now….  He refilled it with scotch and contemplated the cut crystal of the tumbler as he turned it within his long fingers before taking a steadying gulp.

“Honestly,” he murmured mostly to himself, “Dye packs and bulletproof vests….and ruin the cut, not to mention the fabric, of a perfectly good Armani.  Talk about sinful,” he teased, and the tension broke as quickly as it had come.

Chloe sat back down, perhaps a tad ungracefully, and huffed out a sigh.  “You’re right,” she acknowledged softly, the words tasting like ashes in her mouth.  “I didn’t, couldn’t see you as a devil, as _evil_ , so there was no way I could acknowledge you as The Devil.”

He sat as well, as far from her as he could and still be on the sofa.  “And…I really didn’t want to show you,” he admitted softly, “for just this reason.  I was…afraid…of your reaction.  I’ve never wanted you to fear me or … risk losing you from my life,” he said quietly.

“Not going anywhere,” she replied just as softly, scooting her hand toward his, palm up.  Hesitantly, as if fearing it was merely a hallucination, a manifestation of wishful thinking, he grasped the offered hand.  She twined their fingers together and held on, the silence between them pleasant but unmistakably pregnant; they were by no means finished talking, but the lull was a pleasant respite before the next round of bloodletting.

For the first time in what seemed like a very long time, Chloe began to hope.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:** “I am an Agnostic because I am not afraid to think. I am not afraid of any god in the universe who would send me or any other man or woman to hell. If there were such a being, he would not be a god; he would be a devil.” ―  **Clarence Darrow**

 

Chloe nodded to herself.  “Show me again,” she said quietly but with conviction.

“Whatever for?” Lucifer demanded immediately.  “You’ve seen; we’ve gotten past it….we have gotten past it, yes?” he inquired uncertainly.

“Yes, we’ve definitely gotten past it,” she replied, a soft smile of reassurance gracing her lips.  “But that’s not enough.  I…,” and here Chloe struggled for the right words.  “I don’t want to just get past it.  I want to accept it, accept all of you, so that it doesn’t matter which face I’m looking at … it’s all just Lucifer.”

“But why?” Lucifer asked almost petulantly, almost the whine of a recalcitrant toddler in his tone.  “You’ve seen it.  You’re not insane, which is a miracle in and of itself, by the way.  You say you can get past it.  Why would you want to subject yourself to that horrendous monstrosity any more than you absolutely have to?”

“Because it’s part of you,” Chloe said with a soft smile, squeezing his hand, “and I want you to be him whenever you feel like it.  I want you to trust me enough to be yourself around me, whichever face you want to wear…whenever it’s just us…whenever you want to.”

Lucifer let out a long huff and rolled his eyes but obediently changed.  It was Chloe, and he would do pretty much anything she asked of him.  Damn it to hell, he knew she knew it too.

She examined his face more closely, looking for the first time not just with her eyes but with her fingers as well, at each deep laceration and scar, each char mark and wrinkle until she could see small variations in skin tone and feel minute changes in texture and temperature.  Truthfully, she was being so gentle, Lucifer had a hard time not closing his eyes, purring, and rubbing against her stroking fingers like a big cat being petted.  He sighed and gave in, closing his eyes and at least letting his head fall back.

“So, you said once, no horns and no tail, right?”

“Right,” he agreed.  “Disappointed?” he teased.

“Not about the horns, but I was kind of looking forward to pulling your tail,” she replied in kind.

“Why darling, is that one of those human euphemisms your kind are so fond of…naughty, naughty girl,” he purred, cocking his head slightly and opening one flaming eye to fix her with a salacious grin.  And damn if he couldn’t do lewd convincingly in any form.  It must be the voice, Chloe decided, as she flushed crimson to the roots of her hair.

“The scarring,” she began hastily to cover her nervousness, “does it cover your whole body?”

“Want to find out?” he crooned in that same honey and bourbon voice that already had her blushing as he slowly began to work open the second button at his collar.

“Stop that,” Chloe snapped softly as she swatted his hands away from the small, pearlescent buttons of his dress shirt.

He laughed, and his face morphed back again. 

After a long pause, he continued reluctantly.  “Yes,” he answered simply.  “When I fell, every part of me burned,” he concluded somberly, no levity left between them given his dark but honest answer.

Chloe gulped and blinked hard to dispel the tears.  In her mind, God had a lot to answer for.  He had dispensed a punishment upon his own son that was so harsh, so vile it went beyond torture.  She doubted there were any words in any language to describe such vicious cruelty for simply asking for what all children grow up to ask for—their freedom…freedom to make their own mistakes and learn from them, freedom to form their own opinions, the freedom to live their lives as they saw fit to live them.  She was both dreading and eagerly looking forward to the day Trixie left the nest, not wanting to let go—clinging to each precious moment of her childhood, but simultaneously anxious to know the person her daughter would become.  She was fast going from someone who didn’t believe in God to someone who loathed him beyond the telling of it.

_Control, Chloe_ she whispered silently to herself and asked another question to disguise her unease.

“So this is a glamour, like in a faerie tale, you wear it to disguise your real face?” Chloe asked as she reached out to touch Lucifer’s stubbly cheek, the five o’clock shadow both soft and scratchy against her fingertips.

“Of course not,” Lucifer huffed, mildly irritated.  “I suppose we must go through this again.  You humans and your binary thought processes,” Lucifer ranted.  “It’s as if the only time you ever consider the option ‘all of the above’ is on a multiple choice examination.”

Lucifer pushed himself to his feet, turning to face her fully.  “These are my wings,” he said forcefully, as two pearlescent glowing wings spilled forth and dominated the large room.  The wingspan was easily twenty feet, fully extended, and having seen the carnage in the loft, the blood soaked feathers, all she could think was that Lucifer’s siblings had done a damn fine job putting him back together.  The wings flexed and spilled forward the most beautiful of holy lights, indiscriminately spreading awe inspiring divinity.

Chloe’s stared fixated, and her mouth dropped open with a choked, soft, “oooohh.”

“They are always attached to my body whether they can be seen or not.  I was, and remain, an archangel; I am also The Devil,” Lucifer continued in an attempt to make his point.  When he saw her slightly glazed over eyes, he huffed, rolled his shoulders and the wings vanished with a quiet rustle.

“Well, there’s something else you’ll probably want to be seeing on a rather frequent basis too, hmmmm?”

Chloe nodded, speechless.  Lucifer rolled his eyes and waited for the detective’s eyes to begin to focus once more before he resumed his argument.

“Returning to my point…Tell me, detective, are you Beatrice’s mother?”

“You know I am.  You’ve called her my offspring or my spawn often enough.”

“Are you also Penelope Decker’s daughter?”

“Lucifer, you’ve met my mother,” Chloe retorted sharply.

“Yes or no?” he insisted.

“Yes.”

“And are you an LAPD police detective in the homicide division?”

“You know I am,” Chloe retorted a second time, irritation creeping into her voice.  “This really makes no sense, whatso…”

“Which one are you right now, at this precise moment?” Lucifer interrupted smoothly.

Chloe frowned and maintained a long silence as she let Lucifer’s question percolate.  “I’m all three,” she said softly as the pieces began to slot together.  “You’re both, aren’t you?  All the time … you simply choose which Lucifer you show the world but, no matter what, you’re always both.”

“My Devil face is also tied to my emotions, my rage, as you well know at this point…and perhaps, to some extent, my belief that I am a monster, but otherwise…got it in one, Detective.”

Score blood for Lucifer, albeit unintentionally, Chloe thought a little hysterically as she pulled her legs up, pressed her face into her knees, and began to cry.  Lucifer stood awkwardly, uncertain whether to go to her or hold back, and rather gawped at the detective.

So, he did what he always did.

“Darling, that’s so 19th century, the swooning maiden who bursts into tears at the least provocation,” he joked.

Chloe just cried harder; the emotional upheaval, lack of sleep, and too much alcohol and not enough food over the last five days taking too great of a toll on her equilibrium.

“Detective,” Lucifer whispered as he sat down as unobtrusively as possible next to her.  “Chloe,” he tried again.  “What do I do?” he asked in a small, confused voice.

Chloe actually laughed a bit through her tears.  Of course the Devil with his always questionable interpersonal skills would ask the sobbing woman what to do.  It was just so Lucifer.  She flung herself into his arms and held on for dear life.  Lucifer wrapped his arms around her cautiously, as if she might break, and held her stiffly, gradually relaxing as she snuggled closer, trying to get comfortable.  It was nothing like the romantic movies.  Because of their height difference Chloe was doing less crying on his shoulder and more sobbing into his lower sternum.  Additionally, she wasn’t a pretty crier.  She was going to look like ten miles of bad road after this.  Tit for tat, she supposed.  If she could accept Lucifer’s devil face, he could deal with her red, puffy eyes and nose.

After a few minutes, she pulled herself together and sat up.  She gave Lucifer a watery smile before shuffling barefoot to the guest bath where she ran cold water and rinsed her face, letting the cool water take some of the sting out of her eyes.  When she reached for the towel, she found it held in an extended hand.  She took it gratefully, eyeing Lucifer, who was leaning against the door casing, watching her cautiously, as if she might break down again at any moment.

She offered a tremulous smile.  He returned it.

“So, do you think mucous comes out of silk?” he inquired with an arched brow and a goofy little grin lifting his lips, a forced note of pique coloring his query as he looked down at his wrinkled, damp shirt front.

Chloe felt herself smiling back.  “Lucifer, I have a nine year-old daughter; I happen to know snot comes out of pretty much everything.  Your shirt will be fine.”

He chuckled softly.  “Better now?”

“Yeah, just the way you said that before…well, it reminded me of my second, well, I guess you’d call it a revelation for lack of a better word. 

“What?  ‘Got it in one, Detective’?” he asked, confusion making his face screw up like an adorable child faced with an algebraic equation, certain that this is some sort of made up shit but not quite sure.

“Yeah,” Chloe admitted.  “You didn’t say it sarcastically, but you should have.  As you pointed out earlier, I’m a pretty shitty detective,” Chloe said, and she couldn’t prevent a tiny note of self-pity from creeping into her voice.

“What?” Lucifer exclaimed in outrage.  “You’re the best detective I know.”

“Morningstar, I’m the only detective who’ll work with you.  It’s not like you have a vast pool to pick from.  Besides, you were right before.  I didn’t want to admit it, but all of the weird hocus pocus that happens around you, has happened on pretty much every single case we’ve worked together…yeah, some detective I am.” Chloe finished on a long sigh.

“Detective…Chloe,” Lucifer said adamantly, trying to get her to look at him.  “Your skepticism is one of the things that make you a great detective.”

“There’s a healthy level of skepticism, and then there’s outright denial.  Instead of looking objectively at the evidence, I let my own personal beliefs color every conclusion I ever made about you.  That’s a rookie mistake—making up your mind and then twisting the evidence to make it fit.  If I’d been half the detective you think I am, I would have at least questioned my own conclusions.  Look at it this way: say woman X is missing.  She’s wealthy and there is a large insurance policy naming her husband as beneficiary.  We find approximately 6 pints of her blood pooled in her bedroom; there’s a heavy marble bookend covered in her blood in the trash, and her husband’s fingerprints, in blood, are recovered from the bookend and the site of the crime scene—the  bedroom.  What conclusion do you draw?”

“The obvious answer is that her husband murdered her.”

“Exactly; even without a body, the other circumstantial evidence taken together paints a picture of murder.  I never looked at your face or your wings head on—i.e. the body, but each little piece of circumstantial evidence, each time you mesmerized a witness, demonstrated some impossible feat of speed or strength, bypassed locks and security systems like they didn’t exist…every single one I dismissed as some quirk, some trick.  Looking back, they added up to a picture I just refused to see.”

“Hindsight, is, as they say, 20/20.  What’s the alternative, Chloe?  Believe every charlatan and snake oil salesman who claims he’s Jesus reincarnated or the messenger of God?” Lucifer inquired facetiously.

“Of course not.”  Chloe chewed her lip for a moment.  “Did you ever read the Sherlock Holmes stories when you were a kid?”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow.  “I was never really a child, and even if I were, when I came into being, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s birth was still several billion years away, give or take a few million years.”

“Sorry, I’m gonna forget sometimes, and maybe that’s a good thing.  I think some part of my brain must think that we’re really not so completely different after all,” Chloe admitted sheepishly.

Lucifer smiled a soft, sad smile for a moment before brusquely continuing, “It’s of no consequence.  Carry on Detective.”

Clearly his tone indicated that he was reaching his threshold for emotions.  Chloe hesitated momentarily before pushing forward.  He had asked for it.

“Well, I never did solve any of them before Holmes did, but one of his sayings impressed me enough to remember it all these years later.  ‘Once you eliminate the impossible’…”

“’Whatever remains, no matter how improbable must be the truth’.  What?” Lucifer commented dryly.  “I said I was never a child; I didn’t say I hadn’t read them.”

“My point is,” Chloe huffed, “I refused to see the truth, even if it was improbable.”

“No,” Lucifer said savagely, vehement in his defense of his detective, “you eliminated the impossible so far as you were concerned—that I was, in fact, The Devil, and went with the improbable—the series of magic tricks I was able to perform.  I’m sorry,” he whispered softly.  “I was harsh earlier.  I hoped that over time you would come to the realization on your own, and that it wouldn’t matter—that nothing would change, that you would simply accept it if you came into the realization on your own.  I was the one in error, not you.  You could never come to that realization without absolute empirical proof because in your mind the devil was the impossibility—not the improbability.  The magic tricks were improbable but not impossible.”

Lucifer swallowed hard, looking a bit lost and scared before he blundered forward a bit awkwardly, voice becoming more vehement as he continued.  “I considered telling you the truth, many times, and proving to you that I am The Devil; I almost did so, on more than one occasion.   I feared your reaction, but even more, I think, I feared the repercussions—not only to your sanity but to your safety, to your very existence right down to the way you choose to live your life.  Now that you know, my family will meddle; they were already meddling at the fringes of your awareness.  Now, they no longer have to conceal themselves from you, and their machinations may have terrible consequences.   Chloe, for your own well-being, perhaps you should consider letting Amenadiel…”

“No!” Chloe shouted vehemently, taking a step back and bumping hard into the granite top of the double sink.  The guest bathroom was probably not the best place to have this conversation; Chloe ignored that as well as the bruise she was certain was beginning to bloom on her hip.  “I can’t go back, Lucifer.  I won’t.  Besides, I know you won’t let anything happen to me or Trixie, not ever, if you can possibly help it.  You’ve proven that so many times,” Chloe pushed that last out through a tight, choked feeling seizing her throat and threatening fresh tears. 

“My life is so much better for having met you.  I know I grouse sometimes about your particular brand of crazy, your _Luciferness_ , but the truth of the matter is, before I met you, I had work and Trixie—and absolutely nothing else.  My marriage was pretty much over—chalk one up in the failure column, and I’ve never been especially close with my mother, for obvious reasons.  My life was so empty, and I didn’t even realize it was happening.  Because of you, I remembered how to have fun, have friends…have a life.  I have Tribe now and so much more,” Chloe offered a tremulous smile as she looked directly at her partner with more emotion than was probably advisable given that she wasn’t ready to completely bare her heart. 

“Besides,” Chloe averted her eyes and pushed on, the moment becoming too much, “I learned a valuable lesson about making assumptions -- about what is impossible, and I think I also learned a little bit about having faith in my partner.  More importantly, we have the chance,” Chloe swallowed nervously, and shifted her gaze down, away from Lucifer’s dark, expectant eyes, “for something more… in time, … but that can only happen if I know everything…if you want that,” Chloe finished softly, hazarding a quick glance up through half lidded eyes, the softest, most vulnerable part of herself unwilling to be completely exposed.

“More than you will ever know,” Lucifer replied fervently, and fire sizzled in her every nerve.  His head bowed.  Was he going to…?

Chloe yawned.

And, much to her everlasting chagrin it wasn’t a ladylike little yawn, kitten-like and cute; it was a yawn of absolute and total exhaustion, one that nearly unhinged her jaw and gave Lucifer every opportunity to count the fillings in her back teeth if he so chose before she could get a belated hand up to cover her mouth.

“I think the rest of this conversation can wait until tomorrow, Detective.  We should probably get you to bed,” and as if he weren’t able to help himself, his gaze caressed every inch of her with a heat that she was certain was hotter than the actual Hell.

“Lucifer, I…”

“Say no more, Chloe.  You’re on the verge of collapse.  While you are always beautiful to me, it’s obvious that you haven’t been eating or sleeping properly.”  He reached around her, and the brush of his bared forearm against her hand sent electric shivers up her spine, but he only opened the vanity drawer and extracted a wrapped toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste.  He laid them on the countertop and then gestured to the large basket between the double sinks; it contained numerous soaps, lotions, moisturizers, deodorants, razors, and a plethora of washcloths.  It looked like something out of a high end resort spa, just like the luxury bathroom surrounding it. 

“I’ll go turn down the guest bed,” Lucifer said as he gave her a little nudge to get her focused on her nightly ablutions.  After brushing her teeth and washing her face and hands, she studied her reflection in the mirror.  She was glad Lucifer thought she was beautiful, and the only thing that kept her from snorting at his chosen adjective was the certain fact that he never lied.  If she were being completely honest, she’d seen roadkill that looked better than she did at that moment.  The missed meals were showing in the slightly sunken, pale cheeks, and her eyes resembled a raccoon’s more than she ever wanted to admit.  There was a fragility to her countenance that mirrored her emotional state, and she was never more pleased to be on administrative leave; she sure as hell didn’t want her co-workers seeing tough-as-nails Chloe Decker looking like some downtrodden waif from a Dickens novel.

She made liberal use of the sinfully rich moisturizer, even going so far as to strip down to her panties and rubbing it in everywhere she could reach.  The muted, heady scent of vetiver and lemon grass swirled around her in gentle waves, and she felt so relaxed she probably could have fallen asleep cuddled up to one of the plush bath towels on the warming rack.  

“Detective,” he called as he tapped twice on the door.  “Put your hand out, please.  I have something for you to sleep in.”

Chloe pulled a towel around her nearly nude body and stuck her hand out the mostly still closed door.  Feeling fabric, she grasped it tightly, pulling it and her arm back inside.  Lucifer had given her a black t-shirt she recognized from his days of doing his Dan impersonation and a pair of men’s silk boxers.

“I hope they’re okay.  I know how you feel about cast offs that have been left behind.  The boxers should fit, albeit loosely.  They were something Maze slipped into my closet in an attempt to make me think I was getting fat,” Lucifer snorted an indignant “as if” sound.  “Are they acceptable?” he asked, clearly a bit nervous.

“They’re fine,” Chloe said, as she stepped from the bathroom wearing the baggy, improvised pajamas and followed Lucifer to a guest room.  She was inordinately relieved to find that it looked more like a high end hotel room than the sex swing, mirrored ceiling, brothel she was half expecting.  She carelessly tossed her already rumpled street clothes onto the settee in the corner and made straight for the bed, barely managing to pull the duvet up around her shoulders.

“Goodnight, Chloe,” Lucifer said softly as he turned off the light and shut the door.  But, Chloe was already falling into a sound sleep, and if she dreamt, she couldn’t remember her dreams come the morning.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:** “There's only room for one hero in this story-and everyone knows the devil doesn't get to be the good guy.” 

―  **Joe Hill,** **[Horns](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/6781405)**

Chloe awoke slowly, a groggy sort of warm awareness gradually permeating her sleep fogged mind.  She felt better than she had in days, maybe months…probably since before Pierce…Cain…had come into their lives, slyly pitting them all against one another, making her doubt herself, doubt Lucifer.

The smell of what was undoubtedly the best French roast money could buy had her pushing down the duvet, nose peeking out and twitching at the delightful aroma.  Underneath the stronger scent of the coffee were the delightful undertones of bacon; her stomach gave a happy gurgle at the mere thought of one of Lucifer’s omelets.  If he ever tired of owning a nightclub, he could make a fabulous living as a chef.  Now that would really be Hell’s kitchen, with the temperamental Lucifer Morningstar raining down wrath and fury on the poor sous chefs.  She smirked at her own wayward thoughts before pushing herself up and ambling into the bathroom where she used the facilities, washed up and combed out her hair.  The night’s rest had done wonders for both her disposition and appearance; she no longer resembled a peevish raccoon, but she was still too pale, too fragile looking.

Striding slowly to the settee, she found her clothes gone.  Either Lucifer or perhaps Maze, if they were back on speaking terms—and honestly she couldn’t seem to keep their personal vendettas straight in her mind, had raided her closet.  Fresh clothes, simple jeans and a sweatshirt were folded along with clean underthings.  She flushed hotly at the thought of Lucifer going through her underwear drawer and prayed it had been Maze.  Maze would rib the hell out of her later, but Lucifer…if he’d seen her small array of sex toys….oh fuck!  Her cautious morning optimism burst like a fragile soap bubble.

Sighing loudly, she dressed and twisted her hair back almost viciously into a tight ponytail before bracing her nerves and following her interested nose and even more intrigued stomach to Lucifer’s kitchen-- only to find him wearing a black silk robe that fell barely to mid-thigh.   It was belted, but he had been moving around in it, and it gaped in a deep ‘v’ showing a wide swathe of his muscled chest and the top row of what was undoubtedly a very impressive six pack, though it had been a while since she’d seen it.  Chloe did her best to avert her eyes as Lucifer chirped a gleeful “Good afternoon,” and proceeded to crack three eggs into a bowl.

“Afternoon?” Chloe mumbled as more of a question than a greeting.  Lucifer jerked his head toward the microwave, where the display clock read a clear 12:47.  “Oh my God,” Chloe groaned as she slid onto a stool and buried her face in a bent arm.  A mumbled, “I’ve slept for…,” issued from the vicinity of her elbow.

“Twelve hours and forty-one minutes, or thereabouts,” Lucifer supplied helpfully.

No wonder she felt so rested.  Chloe groaned again.  “My sleep schedule is gonna be shot to hell,” she murmured absently. 

“Omelets or French toast?” he asked as he ignored her personal remonstrations.

Chloe shrugged.  At this point Spam sounded good.  “Chef’s choice.”

Lucifer studied her for a moment before cheerfully announcing, “Both!”

“Lucifer, I may have missed a few calories, but I don’t have to make them all back in the same meal,” she chastised as she poured herself a cup of coffee. 

“Nonsense, Detective.  You need a bit of spoiling, and I’m just the Devil to do it,” he announced happily and proceeded to toss several slices of brioche into the egg batter as he cracked more eggs for omelets.

Forty minutes later, Chloe was so stuffed she was fairly certain she would never walk again.  She pushed herself back from the table with a groan, trying to work up the energy to start carrying dishes to the sink.

Lucifer tutted.  “I have a service for that, darling.  Just leave them.  So,” he said as he rubbed his hands together like a child playing hooky, “what shall we do today?”

The offer was tempting.  She hadn’t seen anything but a cold, gray sea and her own cluttered living room for days now, but… she had been pretending too long that things were ever going to be the same again, that they had all the time in the world.  Maze’s words had been haunting the back of her mind since yesterday’s conversation at the beach.

“Wherever you want to go to talk, Lucifer.  There are still things between us, things that need to be said.”

“Tomorrow,” Lucifer said with a smile, raising his hand and waving it dismissively.

“No,” Chloe insisted, grabbing his hand and pressing it tightly between her own.  Lucifer frowned.

“Maze told me…about…about, God’s First Celestial Law.  You killed a human.  She told me what that means.  We have to…make plans, or something.  I don’t know…but, I’m not just gonna let Him take you, not if there’s anything I can do to stop it.”

Lucifer smiled tightly and averted his gaze.  Lucifer never lied, but he did withhold the full truth on occasion.  Chloe recognized that look. 

“Lucifer, what are you not telling me?” she demanded.

“I’m in no danger, Chloe.”  At her disbelieving look, he added a fervent, “I swear it.”

“Lucifer, you can’t know that.  Just because nothing has happened yet…”

“I have it on the highest authority…”

“Amenadiel?” Chloe questioned.

“Nope,” Lucifer said, popping the ‘p’ loudly.  “Had a visit from Dear Old Dad himself on Tuesday.”

“God came to see you?” Chloe whispered, stunned.  “The God?”

“Yep,” Lucifer said succinctly, again popping the ‘p’. 

“And he’s not going to _unmake_ you?  You’re sure?  Or…or, send you back to Hell?” Chloe stuttered.

“No, love, He’s not,” Lucifer said reassuringly, squeezing her hand before letting her go and turning toward the sofa, upon which he flopped gracefully, robe gaping dangerously.

Chloe raised an eyebrow.  “We are not having this conversation with you naked.”

Lucifer grinned salaciously, eyes twinkling with equal parts seduction and devilish merriment.

“I’ll have you know I’m adequately clothed,” Lucifer said slyly as he began to undo the belt of his robe.  He held her gaze in challenge, and though Chloe raised her eyebrow even higher, she refused to look away, realizing belatedly that she was inexplicably playing some weird game of naked chicken with The Devil but refusing to look away and lose, nevertheless.

The robe fell open revealing a pair of snug, black boxer briefs.  Lucifer smirked.  “You haven’t said yet what you wanted to do today, so I haven’t dressed yet.  Name your heart’s desire, and it’s yours.”  The earnestness with which Lucifer so casually offered her anything nearly _unmade_ her.

Her answer was immediate, though.  “What did your Father say, Lucifer?  What are you not telling me?”

Lucifer looked away, staring out the balcony doors for a long moment.  At last he looked back at her to see her biting her lip in concern.  “Please,” he begged more with his eyes than his voice, “let me have today.  We’ll do whatever you want, and I promise I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“Why?  Why tomorrow?”

“Because I’m being selfish, Chloe.  I want one, last day with you because when you hear what He said …” Lucifer whispered brokenly.

“You think whatever He said is going to end us, our friendship, our partnership, everything, don’t you?  That, that… I’m just gonna cut and run.  Is that what you think?”

“No,” Lucifer replied heavily, “it’s what I know.” 

“Lucifer,” Chloe said with a heated urgency as she uncrossed her arms and at last sat down next to him.  “There is nothing He could say that would make me turn away from you.  Nothing,” she stressed forcefully.

“Really, Detective?  And what if He said you had to choose?” Lucifer asked archly, head cocked, as he studied her intently.

“Choose?  Choose what?” Chloe asked, confusion knitting her brow and making her eyes harden.

“Why … choose between me and your daughter, of course,” Lucifer said calmly as Chloe gasped, feeling the world spin out from under her.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:** “Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep...” ―  **John Milton,** **[Paradise Lost](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1031493)**

 

Chloe clutched her stomach and concentrated simply on breathing, in a desperate bid to avoid revisiting breakfast.  She highly doubted it would taste as good the second time around.

“What the hell?” she shouted, and Lucifer winced, wondering if the Detective might have just ruptured her vocal chords as her exclamation ended on a high pitched screech.  “What the fuck does that even mean?” she demanded after several deep breaths.

Well, at least she wasn’t broken.

He looked at her helplessly, clearly uncertain as to where to begin or even how to begin explaining the antics of the omniscient, pseudo-benevolent, capricious, scheming deity that he called Father—when he was feeling charitable, at least. 

As Lucifer continued to struggle for words, Chloe began to ramble, desperate to fill the almost malignant silence.  “Well, number three just jumped up and bit me in the ass,” she said desperately, fighting back tears.

“Ahhhh, your third revelation.  What is number three?” Lucifer asked curiously, willing to do almost anything to avoid the upcoming conversation.  He stalled, needing more time to figure out how to segue into Dear Old Dad’s ultimatum.

“The realization that God is real.”

Lucifer looked unimpressed.

Chloe snorted.  “Not much of a revelation for you, obviously, but for me…realizing that all of those things you talked about were true…real.  Talk about a paradigm shift!” Chloe exclaimed.  “For thirty-seven years, I’ve been a very happy atheist, even when the nuns were trying to pour that drivel into my head.  I was absolutely convinced that the Bible was a complete crock of made up bullshit stories designed to keep rich old men in power and justify slavery, treating women like property, and keeping the poor impoverished.  I didn’t believe in God…never wanted to believe in God.  You can’t see what I do every day and believe in a just and benign God.”

“Ms. Lopez seems to manage it,” Lucifer speculated idly.

“Yeah,” Chloe sighed.  “I love Ella like a baby sister, but I am never going to be that naïve.  I’m just not wired that way.”

“You think faith is another word for naiveté?” Lucifer queried; he had never heard it described as such.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I think it is.  Have faith.  Be content with your lot in life; do good; turn the other cheek—meanwhile watch all of those who are selfish, greedy, worthless assholes…who don’t do good…who don’t care about anyone but themselves, watch them amass wealth and power…watch them get away with crime after crime because they can buy the justice they want…  _But rest assured God has a plan_.  I hate it, especially now that I know that all of those guilty people, if they don’t feel remorse, they just go to heaven.  What a fucked up system!”

Chloe scrubbed her hands across her face, smearing angry tears she hadn’t even known she was crying.

“There are a lot of people in hell who don’t belong there, aren’t there?” she asked quietly a few moments later.

“Yes.  “No one born of a forbidden union may enter the assembly of the Lord. Even to the tenth generation, none of his descendants may enter the assembly of the Lord.  Deuteronomy 23:2,”” Lucifer quoted.

“What exactly does that mean?”

“For the most part it means that all children who are born out of wedlock or are the products of adultery, unto the tenth generation, are cast into hell, through no fault of their own.  There were a lot of bastards and children of bastards in hell.  When Dad delegated some of the management of souls to Gabriel, he and I fixed that one, but there are still those who feel inordinately guilty for the most minor of offenses.  They torture themselves for an eternity for slights that caused no lasting harm to anyone,” he spat angrily.

“Jesus Christ,” Chloe muttered under her breath.  “How nuts is that?”

“Actually, my half-brother wasn’t nearly that vindictive…dumber than a box of moon rocks, but not so cruel.”

“You’re saying Jesus was a moron,” Chloe laughed in a strange mix of abject misery and pathetic disbelief.  All of that shit was real…well, not all.  Lucifer said about 35%, and she’d believe him over some scholar or theologian any day of the week.

“The idiot was dying of thirst and starvation in the desert.  I merely pointed out that being of divine birth he could summon both water and food.  Father, of course, turned my perfectly reasonable statement of fact into Satan tempting Christ…for pointing out the bloody obvious!  I mean why suffer when you don’t have to?  When it serves no real purpose?”  Lucifer sighed and shook his head.  “Most of the Biblical divine revelations are nothing more than auditory or visual hallucinations brought on by dehydration, starvation or the ingestion of various _medicinal herbs_ ,” Lucifer snorted.  “But, every story needs its villain, I suppose.”

Lucifer paused for a long minute, and Chloe could see that he was working up to something.  She sat closer to him, feeling his warmth, waiting.

“It’s not too late you know.  Amenadiel can still…”

“No,” she insisted.

“Chloe, you won’t have to choose.  We can go back to being the beautiful Detective and her quirky, devilishly handsome partner … the man you simply thought was delusional.”

Chloe flinched.  She had thought that for a very long time.  “Is that what you want?”

“It’s what’s best for you,” he replied softly.

“I choose what’s best for me,” Chloe asserted, determination lacing every syllable.  “Is that what you want?  … Before we go any further, I need to know.  _Is that what you want_?” she enunciated each word carefully and clearly.

“No,” barely a whisper but audible nonetheless.

“Good…okay,” Chloe nodded.  “We’ve decided then.  Going backwards is not an option.  Let’s get down to it then.  I know you have an eidetic memory, so let’s have it.  What, exactly, did God say?”

Lucifer tipped his head back, remembering Tuesday, along with all of the mixed emotions it had brought with it. 

“I had just returned from seeing Dr. Linda…sending her to you.  When I stepped out of the bloody elevator, there He was.”  Lucifer closed his eyes, sinking deeper into the memory.

**********

“Hello, son.”

Lucifer stopped in shock, eyes widening; he even went so far as to take a step back into the elevator. 

“Oh bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath.

At first glance, *Neil Gaiman was standing comfortably in his living room, perusing the curiosities around the room with some interest.  But Neil Gaiman wouldn’t have called him ‘son.’ He childishly considered closing the lift doors and reopening them to see if the Old Bastard disappeared.  Instead, he strode stiffly to the bar and poured himself a triple.

“I’d offer you a drink, but then we both know You’re not staying.  What do You want?” Lucifer demanded so coldly that the brown of his eyes turned black and hard, resembling nothing so much as the cold, black hell stone in his ring.

“It’s good to see you, son,” God continued as if Lucifer hadn’t spoken.

“Is it?” Lucifer replied scathingly as he tossed back the contents of the tumbler in one gulp before slamming it onto the bar top.

“It is.”

“I haven’t seen You since You cast me out, and now You turn up here…why?”

“Did you want to see Me before, Samael?  Would I have been welcome?” He asked, the deflection clear.

“Don’t.  That’s no longer my name.  I haven’t been Samael for a very long time.”

God shrugged.  “What’s in a name, as the humans say?” He asked archly.

“Quite a lot, as you bloody well know.  I am no longer the Venom of God.”

“Very well, Lucifer,” God said softly, a hint of amusement coloring his voice.

“What are You doing here?” Lucifer demanded again, “And why are you wearing that shabby excuse for a human?” Lucifer said snobbily as he eyed the slightly unkempt, scruffy beard and hair, the wrinkled jeans and faded sweatshirt.  “Why not go full out and wear that Zuckerburg chap with his detestable, ripped hooded monstrosities?”

God chuckled.  “It’s good to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor, son,” the scruffy faux human replied softly.  “I expect you think I’m here about Cain.  Rest assured that having lived several thousand lifetimes, I no longer considered him human, not completely.  You will not be punished for your actions.”

The fact that His arbitrary and capricious Father had so quickly gotten to the point of His visit was not lost on His alienated son.  Lucifer swallowed a lurch of relief but refused to comment.  There had to be more to this little visit.

“How are your wings, son?”

Lucifer started at the odd segue to the conversation.  “Just bloody fantastic,” he snarled as he poured himself another drink and gestured to a nearly full carafe on the bar, which contained the bullets his siblings had plucked, none too gently in his opinion, from his torn and bloodied wings.

“So, you were responsible!” Lucifer hissed in barely suppressed fury.  “I knew it.  The more I considered Amenadiel’s crazy theory, the more I realized that it was all utter shite!  While Cain may have used the Detective’s proximity to render me unconscious and transport me to the middle of the desert, there’s no way that once I was away from her influence I wouldn’t have healed and regained consciousness; he was simply taking credit for something he didn’t do.  Only a Celestial could have kept me unconscious for days, roasting in the sun at that!  And, according to my idiot brother, I am responsible for re-growing my own wings because I felt _worthy_ of them again,” Lucifer sneered.    “There’s just one problem with that theory.  I was completely unconscious and unable to feel _worthy_ … or anything else for that matter!”

God smiled, beaming a pleased grin toward his recalcitrant son.  “There was a reason you were known as the Morningstar—the brightest of My children, and it wasn’t merely because you were the Lightbringer.”

“So You don’t deny it?” Lucifer asked, surprised, taken aback at the almost too easy acquiescence.

God nodded sagely and gave a slight shrug.  “I note that you haven’t thanked Me for them.  After all, they did save your life...yours and Chloe’s,” He said resolutely, a note of expectation tinging a hopeful tone into the softly accented voice.

“Thank you?” Lucifer thundered.  “I thought repeatedly cutting them off would clue You in as to how I felt about them.  What You did, knocking me unconscious, dragging me out into the desert, reattaching my divine leash… violating my body against my will…the humans call that rape, You know,” Lucifer concluded savagely, ignoring the tumbler and drinking straight from the bottle.  His hand trembled none too slightly, the liquid sloshing within the confines of the thin glass.

“We are above such things as human law,” God replied disinterestedly, turning to look out the balcony doors.

“Are we indeed,” came the sharp retort.  “And yet You would have had us bow to them and serve them.”

“You must admit, Lucifer, that in the time you have spent with your detective, there is much that you have learned about humanity… much she and others have taught you about compassion, justice, mercy, fellowship and love.  When I made you and your brethren, I was a young God; I had not yet fully developed My Plan.  I created you, my first children, to serve a need, to help Me bring the universe into existence, to set things in Motion—to bring balance to the universe.  Over time, I realized I had been short sighted, and so I created humanity.  My second children would balance my first.  They would give you a deeper understanding of those qualities I had overlooked at first.  You, my first children would shepherd them along, teach them art, music, science.  But, you did not understand, and you rebelled…”

“How could I understand?” Lucifer bellowed, “When You told us nothing?  You ignored us; You gave commands and then abandoned us, without direction, without consideration…demanding our unquestioning obedience and faith as You always did and offered us nothing in return except blind servitude…slavery.  You sowed the seeds of rebellion as surely as You created the universe,” Lucifer fumed.

“That’s why I’m here.  I am prepared to share part of My Plan with you, son.”

“Why now?” Lucifer demanded.

“Because the detective is struggling to accept your recent revelation.  Choices must be made, by you and her.  In order to do that, there are things you need to know.  Sit down … Lucifer.  Let us talk.  Perhaps now would be a good time to offer Me that drink.”

Lucifer grabbed an extra tumbler, a fresh bottle, and sat himself down in the leather recliner, his back facing the balcony.  God accepted his tumbler of scotch with a gracious nod.  Lucifer glared daggers.  On the one hand, he was very tempted to throw the Old Bastard out on his arse or simply walk out of Lux himself.  Two things stopped him: one, Chloe was involved and whatever information his Father held was of some import for her, and two, having an all-powerful, omniscient deity for a Father meant the Old Bastard could _make_ Lucifer listen to whatever utter tripe he was about to peddle.  Lucifer refused to suffer the indignity of being the toddler put in the corner while being dressed down.

He took a healthy swig to fortify himself.  “Get on with it, then.” 

“Very well, I believe you already know that Chloe is a miracle, that I sent Amenadiel to bless Penelope and John Decker with a child.”

Lucifer nodded and took another drink.  Hopefully, if he remained silent, the Old Bastard would get on with it that much quicker.

“What you do not know is that she is not the first.”

“Amenadiel said…,” Lucifer interjected hotly in negation.

“Amenadiel said that he had blessed no others, which was true.  I sent Raphael on the other occasions.”

“How many?” Lucifer demanded.

“Perhaps a dozen over the centuries.  Some you ignored…some you befriended for a time…some you even cared for…none did you love.”

“But why?  Why was it so important to you that I come to feel for one of them?”

“Do you not know, Samael?  Haven’t you figured it out yet?”  At Lucifer’s blank stare, God chuckled.  “She is your redemption, son.”

God swirled the scotch around and took a long drink, waiting for Lucifer to digest that bit of information, before He gestured for a refill and continued.  “Honestly, I would have thought it was obvious.  On the very night when you realized that you had to tell Chloe the truth, that she had the right to know who you really are before she chose whether to engage in a relationship with you…that in order for her to truly exercise her free will, she must make that choice fully cognizant of everything you had been keeping from her…  That was when you fully acknowledged that you loved her and everything that entailed…that her needs were more important than your own selfish desires.  Well, that’s when I returned your wings, Samael.  Even if it is just one human, you love humanity.  And you love her of your own free will.  You fulfilled my request, but you did it on your own terms.”

“Hardly,” Lucifer snorted.  “We both know she isn’t fully human; she has been touched by the Divine.  You made her for me and put her in my path.”

“Yes and no,” God conceded with a slight smile.  “Yes, I blessed her parents, and in so doing, I made her immune to your charms.  The fact that she is one of a dozen should tell you the rest.  Had I meddled beyond that, the others would have caught your interest; you would have fallen in love many times over.  But, as we both know, that is not the case.  She is her own woman, fully human, with her own free will.  You will win or lose her on your own merits.”

“My redemption,” Lucifer mused, “as well as my punishment, but You intended that, didn’t you?” Lucifer asked deceptively calm, a flicker of rage tainting his words.  “In the blink of a mortal eye, she’ll be gone, and I shall be alone for the rest of eternity.  Except now I will know even more pain…the agony of her eternal loss.  She will be somewhere that I cannot reach her.  How is it that You get the best propaganda, You evil bastard?  Have I not suffered enough?  When will it be enough?” Lucifer thundered, jumping to his feet, skin melting so his Father could see the monstrosity He had created, chest heaving with rage as his eyes burned so hotly they were a color beyond any mere shade of red.

“My son,” God said softly, rising fluidly and moving to embrace the devilish, deformed figure before him, but Lucifer stepped back.

“I will throw open the Gates of Hell and storm the Silver City,” Lucifer vowed.  “If you want a war, this time, I will not fail,” was Lucifer’s vehement pledge.

“Son, I do not want war, and I did not create Chloe as a punishment.  She will not be kept from you.  When her time comes, she will have what no human has ever been given…A Choice.  She may enter the Silver City, or she may enter the realm of Hell and rule by your side.”

“No,” Lucifer shouted, and flames flashed more intensely in his eyes.  “You will not send a bright, pure soul like hers to Hell.  It’s an abomination…how utterly barbaric.  She is the best of humanity.  I will not take her!”

“You know what would have happened to her had she died an atheist.  Besides, Hell does not have to be that, son.  Of all of my children, I thought you would be the first to see it, not Amenadiel; he was right, you know.  All Celestial beings create their own reality.  For eons you have bent Hell and its denizens to your very will.  You are vulnerable with Chloe only because you choose to be; you subconsciously chose to manifest physical vulnerability to her because you lacked the emotional development to display and articulate your feelings.  Because of her and your interactions with other humans, as well as some help from your rather amazing Dr. Linda, you are becoming who you were always meant to be.  Now that you have some true understanding of Love, Compassion and Mercy, you can create Paradise in Hell.”

Lucifer’s physical form seemed to bleed away, leaving his somewhat pale, shaken human form behind.

“That cannot be true,” Lucifer denied, shaken to his very core.  “I become vulnerable even when I don’t know she is near me.”

“Of course you knew,” God chuckled softly, “albeit subconsciously.  You are one of the most powerful entities in this universe, second only to Myself.  You are the only other being capable of creating life, as you should have realized when you brought forth the creature you call Mazikeen along with the rest; you have not yet even begun to learn all that you are capable of.”

God paused and took a long drink of the fine scotch, appreciating the rich flavor as it slid pleasingly across his palate and gave Lucifer a moment to digest this piece of fresh insight.  “I know you and Gabriel have talked, that you and your brother wish to overhaul the entire workings of Heaven and Hell.  I give you leave to do so.  The two of you can redesign the parameters of how souls are adjudicated and present your plan to me.  There are souls in both Heaven and Hell that are not where they should be due to an overlooked loophole in the system.  You would think the truly evil would feel more guilt, wouldn’t you?”

God sat tiredly back in the chair, seeming to be nothing so much as a worn out, just past middle-aged man.

“I gave you free will eons ago Lucifer, when I cast you from Heaven.  I know there is nothing I can do to make up for the punishment you have endured, but I offer you this chance at redemption.  You must return to Hell.  I know you feel it pulling at you; you are its ruler, and you will never be able to leave it forever.  But I grant you this: Chloe’s lifetime here on earth to win your Queen.  Use it wisely, my son.”

**********

“And then he was just gone.  Along with six bottles of my best scotch.  Bastard,” Lucifer muttered.

 

*Notes:  A little homage to Neil Gaiman who did such a spectacular job narrating in S3 Ep. 26 as the voice of God. 

****

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:** “The Devil teaches women what they are – or they would teach it to the Devil if he did not know.” 

―  **Jules Barbey d'Aurevilly,** **[Le bonheur dans le crime](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2641678)**

 

“But Lucifer, this is good news.  I can choose Hell, and visit my family in Heaven.  I can choose.”

“No Chloe.”

“Why not?” Chloe demanded.  “He said the choice was mine.”

“He said the initial choice was yours…Heaven or Hell.  At no time did He say you could choose to come and go as you please.  If you choose Hell, Heaven may be forever barred to you as it is to me.”

“Maybe not…Can’t we ask?”

“Good luck with that,” Lucifer said dismissively.  “I’ve only been trying to get a straight answer out of the Old Bastard for millennia, only to have Him show up now, offer a few scraps of information, create more problems than He solves, and disappear…with my scotch.”

“For fuck’s sake, would you let the scotch go?  Bigger fish to fry, here?” Chloe declared, eyes wide, rolling them pointedly before fixing them on Lucifer in an attempt to get The Devil to focus.

Lucifer crossed his arms and leaned back, sulky.

“So, I can choose Heaven when I die, and I’ll probably never see you again, and you’ll start a war with Heaven…”

“No,” Lucifer said abjectly.

“No?” Chloe parroted.

“I will not make you responsible for a war, Chloe.  Him yes … you no.  If Heaven is your choice, which I expect it will be, I will honor your wishes.”

“Okay, thanks for that…” Chloe gulped.  This conversation was surreal; damn but number three was really kicking her in the ass, repeatedly.  “So, I need information, Lucifer.  What happens if I choose Heaven?”

“What do you mean, what happens?  You go straight to the Silver City…Paradise, do not pass Go—do not collect $200.  You see your friends and your family…” Lucifer’s words stuttered to a halt, unsure what Chloe was looking for at her look of consternation.  He sighed; he had played far too many games of Monopoly with her spawn of late.

“Monopoly, really?  You make heaven sound like jail.”

“It was for me,” he replied softly.

Oh.  Chloe backtracked a bit, hoping to prevent him from shutting down.  There was so much she still needed to know.

“No, I mean what would I do all day?  What do the… for lack of a better term, ‘good souls’… what do they do all day?”

“I’ve no idea,” Lucifer replied frankly.  “I was cast out before the first Human souls reached Paradise, and since Heaven is barred to me, I’ve no bloody idea what they do all day,” he stated baldly, a slight shrug to his shoulders.  “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Chloe muttered, rolling her eyes again.  “If I’m going to make a choice, I deserve to know what I’m deciding between.”

Lucifer looked dumbstruck for a moment before putting his hands together, closing his eyes and praying.

Golden wings flared into incandescent light on the balcony, and a blonde giant of a man strode in looking annoyed.  No, not a man, Chloe’s brain supplied belatedly.  Jesus Christ, were they all supposed to tower over humanity?

“Brother,” he snapped in a sharp, Midwestern accent, “I have not yet had time to sort the mis-directed souls…”

“It’s not about that.  Gabriel, this is Chloe,” he said as he turned to the wide-eyed human sitting next to him.  “Chloe, my brother Gabriel, who, unfortunately, inherited neither the brains nor the looks in the family.”

“Uh hunh,” Chloe said disbelievingly, as she eyed an angel who looked more like Chris Hemsworth than any other living being ought to.  This was Lucifer’s idea of plain and unattractive?  She stood on shaky legs and belatedly held out her hand.

Gabriel examined her hand closely before turning baffled eyes to his brother.

“She’s offering you a human handshake, brother.  It’s their form of greeting.  Derived from ancient humans holding forth their hands and forearms to demonstrate a lack of weapons and malicious intent.”

“Ahhh,” Gabriel murmured and held out both hands, just to be sure.

Chloe grasped his right hand and demonstrated a firm handshake.  This day was just getting weirder by the second.

“The reason I called you here, brother, is because Chloe wishes to know what good little human souls do all day in Paradise.”

“Lucifer, you know that I cannot answer that.  Humans are to know nothing of the afterlife until their deaths.  That’s the rule.”

“Chloe is a bit different; Father has given her a Choice.”

“Lucifer, they all have a choice—whether to sin or not.”

“No, you arse, not that choice.  At the moment of her death, she may choose Hell, even if she has earned entrance into Paradise.”

“Why would anyone willingly choose Hell?” Gabriel asked, astounded.

“Because Lucifer is barred from Heaven,” Chloe said succinctly. 

And now Gabriel turned to really look at her, ice blue eyes piercing her to her soul as he took her measure.  “You would damn yourself to Hell for Lucifer?”

“No, she won’t,” Lucifer countered forcefully.  “So you will carefully explain to her why she will choose Heaven.”

“She is Father’s miracle, isn’t she Luci?  The one you…”

“Yes,” Lucifer interrupted. 

Gabriel nodded.  “I am bound by Father’s edict.  I can tell you nothing of Heaven.”  But then a sly look seemed to cross his features, and in that moment, Chloe could see the resemblance between the brothers as Gabriel seemed to identify a loophole.  “But if your soul is good, I can take you to the gates for a few moments only and let you look inside.  You will technically be dead for a brief minute, though.  What do you choose, Chloe Decker?” Gabriel asked as he held out his hand.

Dead being the operative term here.

Chloe looked to Lucifer, who nodded his head in Gabriel’s direction.  “You can trust Gabriel, Chloe; he is the angel charged with the protection of women and children.  He will see you safely to and from the Gates.”

*****

Chloe woke up on the floor of Lucifer’s balcony.  She sat up dizzily; nausea roiling in her gut.  Within moments Lucifer was pressing a cold glass of water into her hands.

“I thought Gabriel was going to take me to Heaven?” Chloe murmured, confusion stuttering through her words as she gulped greedily.

“He did, love.  Close your eyes and focus on the feelings of contentment and peace inside of you.  There will likely be nothing but scattered, vague impressions.  You are still human, have a human body and Heaven is a spiritual plane, so you were not able to experience it directly—still somewhat tethered to a human body.  You will never be able to experience it wholly, not until you’ve shuffled off the mortal coil, so to speak.”

Chloe closed her eyes as feelings of peace, contentment and well-being suffused her.  She had vague impressions of laughter and a lightness of spirit.  She felt loved…felt it in every corner of her soul, joy suffused the very essence of her being, and then the feelings were fading.  She tried to hang onto them, but they seeped away like water into a dry riverbed.  She swallowed hard and looked at Lucifer through a blur of tears feeling commensurate feelings of pain and deep loss at the absence. 

“Do you see, Chloe?  Do you understand?”

She nodded.  As the pangs of great loss began to slowly subside, she realized that she had just been given an inkling, that she, and perhaps Amenadiel, were the only beings in the universe that had any tiny modicum of understanding as to what Lucifer had felt when his Father had cast him out of Heaven.  She felt bereft after that single moment just at the Gates.  How much worse had it been for him?  She had adored the feelings of euphoric ecstasy; she imagined it was quite similar to what it felt like to be very high on some of the really good, super illegal shit.  It frightened her.  She desperately wanted those feelings back, and she also never wanted to feel that way again.

“I’m so sorry,” she croaked at last, touching his stubbled cheek gently.

Lucifer smiled sadly.  “It’s for the best; you belong in Heaven, Detective.”

Referring to her as detective at such an intimate moment was the major clue here.  He was distancing himself from her, pulling back his emotions, slipping on his care-free devil-may-care mask.  She wasn’t about to let that happen.

Chloe raised her other hand and framed his face snugly, not letting him pull away.  “No, you idiot.  I haven’t chosen Heaven.  I’m telling you I understand, just the tiniest bit, how you must feel—must have felt, and I’m sorry you were tossed out of your home…like trash.”  She blinked back tears, willing him to see her sincerity.  “Help me up?” she cajoled softly as the moment lingered, becoming too intense for either of them to bear any longer.

Chloe stood, with Lucifer’s help, on shaky legs that refused to synchronize.  At her second mis-step, Lucifer simply picked her up and carried her back inside, placing her on the sofa in the library in front of the fire.  It was only then that she realized she was shaking.

“It will take a few minutes for you to get your bearings,” he said quietly as he covered her with the quilt he quickly retrieved from the guest bedroom.  She nodded and raised the corner, lifting it enough for him to settle in beside her.  She instinctively leaned into his warmth.

“Lucifer?”

“Hmmm?”

“What did God mean about being an atheist?  What would have happened if I’d died a non-believer?  Is that like an automatic sentence to Hell?”

“No, and I would never have allowed that to happen, even if it meant showing you my Devil face on your deathbed.  You know that souls that feel guilty go to Hell and those that do not go to Heaven.  So, to a great extent human souls, like Celestial Beings, create their own reality.”

“But if you don’t believe in anything…”

“Exactly,” Lucifer whispered.  “The Void—Nothingness…”

“So if I’d never met you, this would all be moot.  No choice at all, no chance for any afterlife.”

“As I said, I wouldn’t have allowed that,” he sighed deeply.  After the silence stretched longer than he could bear it any longer, he shifted to look at her.  “Chloe, let this go.  I can hear the gears turning in your mind; you’ll tear yourself apart with the ‘ _what ifs’_ and the ‘ _if onlys_.’  When the time comes, you will choose Heaven; there really is no other option for you.”

And she wondered: how long had Samael, the fallen angel, spent wondering if things could have turned out differently?  What if he hadn’t rebelled?  If only he had approached the question of free will differently?  Would it have made any difference at all?  Or was God just a supreme dick?  She was, personally, leaning toward the latter option.

Chloe tipped her head back and squeezed her eyes shut until tears spilt down her cheeks in restless, meandering tracks.  It was too much.

“I thought free will was supposed to be a gift,” she sobbed out on tiny gasps of choked air, “not a weapon.”

“It was always a double-edged sword.  Unfortunately, in my youth and rather infinite folly, I could not see it for what it was—that freedom is nothing more than an illusion.”

Chloe snuffled and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.  “What do you mean?” she whispered brokenly. 

“Free will is nothing more than an illusion, Detective…The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,” Lucifer intoned.  “The people in Noah’s time knew that well.  He gave them free will, and then destroyed them when they freely chose not to worship Him and kiss His oh so holy, divine arse.  He did the same to the people in Sodom and Gomorrah.  “Here you go—here’s free will—do with it as you please,” until He deems it wicked and immoral,” Lucifer mocked.

“Tell me, Detective,” he demanded, “what is so terribly wrong with a few feasts and orgies, so long as the participants are consenting adults?  Even then, humanity was beginning to have some inkling that widely varying bloodlines produced healthier children.  Believe me, your time is coming.  When enough of you elect not to use your so-called free will the way he wants you to, this planet will burn,” Lucifer declared righteously, eyes blazing.

Chloe shivered but not from cold.  It certainly put her choice in perspective.  Lucifer was right.  So far as God was concerned, there was very likely a right choice and a wrong choice.  What if she made the wrong choice…?  Choose heaven thinking that she’ll get the beautiful place of love and joy Gabriel had shown her, and she may end up in some locked heavenly vault shut away from her friends and family for eternity.  Choose hell and risk never seeing Trixie again, or her mom and dad… God had denied that she was Lucifer’s punishment, but God lied as the Bible and Lucifer’s story made very clear.  Free will was a cosmic joke.  Lucifer hadn’t always told her the whole truth, but he had certainly never lied to her.

Chloe sighed deeply, tipped her head back and closed her eyes as realization began to creep in slowly.  She had been created specifically to tempt Lucifer, thrown into his path in order to offer him some form of twisted redemption he may or may not truly even want.  How many of her life decisions had been manipulated, events created around her to force her into certain decisions, certain paths?  God had said that beyond creation her life was her own; her free will was intact.  She had no choice but to believe it or else go insane second guessing each choice she had made in her life.  But that didn’t mean her free will hadn’t been manipulated by limiting the options she had to pick from.  The only thing she was certain of was Lucifer; no matter what, she was fiercely glad that he was in her life.

“I’m nothing,” she whispered brokenly.

“No, you’re…everything,” Lucifer stated harshly, disbelieving.

“No, to God, I’m nothing…a pawn, to be used and discarded, sacrificed for His Plan,” she whispered, turning empty eyes on Lucifer.

“Aren’t we all?” he said tiredly as he held her until the shivering finally passed.

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much to those of you who have left comments and kudos. Each and every one is treasured.   
> We are in the middle of a move, so there hasn't been a lot of time to edit. Rest assured that I haven't forgotten about this story and those of you who are awaiting more.   
> Hugs to all.

**Chapter 9:** “In fact, all the evil you find around you is dwelt in your hearts and not in me". - Samael 

―  **Tamuna Tsertsvadze,** **[The Guardian Angel](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/61535838)**

 

Chloe continued to lie against Lucifer, using him as a shield against the creeping cold, relentless in its attack, threatening to shake her apart inside and out with trembling fear and righteous anger.  Now she better understood Amenadiel’s casual disregard of her mental boundaries.  God had commanded the angels to love humanity, but she was beginning to doubt that any of them understood the concept the same way a human would.  Humans were a strange dichotomy—everything and nothing at once; as a whole, they were at the crux of the greatest fall in recorded history; as individuals they were nothing, to be manipulated, used, wrongfully cast into Hell itself, and destroyed for no other reason than some esoteric plan that may or may not really exist.  For who can say there is a plan when none have seen it or heard it spoken?  God lies.  She had enough evidence now to take that as fact.  God lies.

“Chloe?” Lucifer asked gently, tucking a loose strand of hair that had come loose back behind her ear, encouraging her with a touch to look at him.  “Are you hungry, darling?”

Chloe looked around a tad guiltily, sensing a great deal of time had passed.  She was stiff and every joint in her body ached—a side effect of sitting still for so very long or from transporting a mortal body to a spiritual plane of existence?  Maybe a combination of the two.

She shook her head.  “I’m not sure I could keep anything down.”

Lucifer sighed.  “Tell me about number four,” he said, a sad note of resignation in his tone.  “Perhaps there is at least one thing I can help you accept,” he said quietly, a desperate hope in his eyes as well as his voice.  He felt so utterly useless; he was the cause of her pain, and the need to help her, to make one thing bearable for her was nearly destroying his conscience, tightening a coil of agitation deep in his guts such that it was nearly a physical strain to hold back his wings, his devil face, his impotent rage. 

“No,” Chloe gasped softly.  “I can’t,” she said as she pulled away from him, standing slowly and heading to the bar.  She debated whether to get a drink before spotting her purse on the side table nearest the elevator.  She changed direction quickly, jerkily pulling her car keys from the zippered side pouch before remembering that she’d taken an Uber.

*****

Lucifer felt as if someone had sucker punched him.  “You’re running,” he demanded.

She wouldn’t look at him.  “I…I…,” she stuttered helplessly before giving up and finally taking a quick glance at him as she backed toward the elevator.  There was something shifty in her gaze, evasive and deceptive. 

And he knew, dammit, that she had endured more in the last week than any human should ever have to; he should be understanding; he should give her time to process; he should…say…do…so many things, but The Devil was not human, not perhaps as evolved as he should be, and his compassion melted in the face of the rage he had been holding back for days.  Its better target was his Father, but He wasn’t here…Chloe was, and what he understood on a visceral level was that he was being abandoned…again.  He strode angrily to the edge of the bar nearest the elevator and faced her, leaving her nowhere to look except at his fury.

“Go on then… Leave!” he shouted.  “Everyone does.  What’s one more human in the grand scheme of things, eh?  I should have expected it.  All your pretty words, your promises.  You’ve gutted me like a fish, demanded open and honest communication,” he sneered as he reached blindly for a bottle, any bottle.  “But apparently that only works one way, doesn’t it, _Darling_?” and venom dripped from every syllable.

*****

Chloe stopped dead in her tracks, gasping, feeling as if a blade had slipped silently between her ribs and slid unerringly into her heart.  Her clutch dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers, and her phone bounced audibly, hopefully secure in its otterbox, to lie amid a jumble of her Chapstick, car keys, a tube of ibuprofen and a snack size Ziploc baggie containing half a tube of Neosporin and a dozen Tickle Me Elmo band aids of various sizes.  Chloe stepped over the detritus numbly, cautiously reaching a hand out for Lucifer, but he was faster, spinning on his heel and walking swiftly toward his library, leaving her to depart or follow in the wake of utter chaos.

No one who truly knows Chloe Decker would expect her to tuck her tail between her legs and leave.

“Lucifer,” she said softly from the arched doorway, suddenly seeing the irony in the reversal of their positions.  Last night, he had come to her cautiously, a supplicant for her favor.  This time she was to be the one asking for his forgiveness.

“Didn’t I tell you to Leave!” He shouted, as he stood and swung to face her, and Chloe was no longer looking at Lucifer but an enraged Satan.

Despite her previous acceptance, she felt tremors of fear arcing through her spine.  _Fake it ‘til you make it, Chloe,_ she said silently to herself.  She straightened her posture and narrowed her eyes.  “That trick doesn’t work on me anymore, remember?  Besides, I know you’re not really angry—you’re hurt, and you have every right to be,” she finished on a soft sigh, a conciliatory note.

“Really?  Do tell, Detective,” he said, anger making the lilting baritone of his voice sharp and cutting even though his face shifted back to his usual appearance.  So, he was going to meet her part way, at least.

“Lucifer, please,” Chloe begged.  “Number four will…destroy me.”

“Just say it, Detective,” he said mockingly, throwing his arms wide.  “You can’t deal with this; it’s too much for your small, fragile human mind to comprehend.  You’re better off without me in your lif…”

“You Goddamn Idiot!” Chloe shouted over him, causing Lucifer’s eyes to widen in alarm, “I’m in love with you!”

The room was deathly silent.  Chloe could hear nothing but the blood pounding in her ears and her own, rasping gaspy breaths as her insides heaved and her heart pounded in her chest.

This hadn’t been at all what she had intended.  In a few years, she had fuzzy fantasies of wine and candlelight and soft kisses and breathily murmured “I love yous” being exchanged by both of them.  But, then again, this was her and Lucifer.  Since when had anything been normal between the two of them?

Lucifer sat down, abruptly and hard, extremely fortunate for his dignity that one of the wingback chairs was mostly behind him.  He looked at her with a gobsmacked expression of awe and hope until it began to bleed into nothing, slowly replaced by a look of abject pity.

“No one loves the Devil, darling.”

“I do,” Chloe asserted, “and I did warn you before about referring to me as “no one,” didn’t I?”

“Chloe,” he said softly, pityingly.  “You don’t know what you’re saying.  It isn’t possible.”

“You don’t think I know my own feelings?” she demanded harshly.

“A month ago you were in love with Marcus Pierce,” he shrugged, and Chloe gasped softly.  Direct hit for Lucifer.  From where he was sitting, she looked like one fickle bitch.

“No, I wasn’t.  I was in love with the idea of Marcus Pierce; there’s a difference.”

Lucifer squinted at her and cocked his head to the left, trying to change his perspective, to understand this strange nuance of love he had not encountered before.  He gestured for her to sit, and she ambled slowly to the couch, very well aware that she was about to, metaphorically, slash open an artery.

Chloe took a deep breath and exhaled hard.  “There’s a saying among humans that little girls want to grow up and marry their fathers.  It’s true, at least in my case.” 

Lucifer’s eyebrows scrambled up his forehead, eyes widening in utter shock.

“Not literally,” Chloe interjected quickly, “just someone who has a lot of the same character traits.”

Lucifer let out a small relieved sigh.

“When my father died,” Chloe pushed forward, eager to get this out and over with, “my mother started dating within a few months.  She changed boyfriends more often than I make Trixie change her socks.  There was an almost endless parade of these worthless men who wanted my mom for her money or because she was an actress; not a single one of them cared about her.  My dad was an honorable, hardworking, honest guy who was just so kind that he really would give someone the shirt off his back.  And the more I saw the men my mom dated, the more convinced I was that I wanted someone like my dad.  I took it a bit far with the whole cop thing, but your selection’s kinda limited when you don’t actively date.  Do you see where I’m going with this?”

He wanted to say yes; she could see it in his eyes, but at last he shook his head.

Chloe sighed.  “What I’m trying to say, with Pierce and even to some extent with Dan, I fell in love with who I thought they were…who I thought they should be because they wore the uniform, just like my dad.  And they talked about doing the right thing, and having honor, and wanting to uphold justice…  I wanted what my parents had, and I fooled myself into thinking that if I married a guy who said those things and acted a certain way, then that’s what I’d get.  It’s like it never occurred to me that I could be deceived.”

She wanted to stop; God, she wanted to stop, but Lucifer didn’t have the human perspective to read between the emotional lines—to hear the words she wasn’t saying.  And, so, she forced herself to keep going, deepening the cut into her very heart with every word.  She had caused this rift between them, made him feel the crushing pain of rejection after an immortal lifetime of nothing but rejection; there was nothing to do but heal it, even if she had strip her soul bare and cast it broken and bleeding at his feet in order to do so.

Chloe scrubbed angrily at the tears gathering in her eyes.  “I mean, Dan talked a good game about the importance of family, and putting the people you love first, but when it came right down to it, he cheated on me, at least I have some pretty strong suspicions that he did, even though he denies it up and down; no one works that much, and there were so many times he wasn’t where he said he’d be—where he was supposed to be...  And he just bailed on me and Trixie more and more often, until I actually timed it once; fifty-four minutes total is what he spent with us during the course of one full week.  And I felt so stupid that it just never occurred to me that Dan, who came from a really tight-knit Catholic family, who mentored me when I was fresh out the Academy, could do that, treat me… us…like we didn’t have feelings, like we weren’t important; we didn’t matter.  I tried to make it work between us for so long.  We had a daughter, and I wanted to love him, and I wanted it to work.  I dragged us to marriage counseling, and it wasn't until the counselor pointed it out that I actually saw it: to get something out of therapy, you have to acknowledge that there’s a problem and want to change.  Dan couldn’t do either—he was perfectly content with the way things were, and that’s when I asked for the separation.”

Chloe took a deep breath and studied her hands clenched tightly in her lap as her long, rambling rant finally petered out. 

“Then, of course, there was the whole clusterfuck around Palmetto Street, and Dan hung me out to dry.  Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?  Cops have to rely on other cops to have their backs.  If a situation went all to hell, I was never sure I could count on my brothers and sisters in blue to have my back.  A slow dispatch, a couple of cops who responded late to teach me a lesson…  By choosing not to have my back, Dan could have very easily gotten me killed.  My daughter could have grown up without a mother because of him.  For that, I will never forgive him.  Any feelings I may have had for him, whether it was love, affection, or something else, died a long time ago.”

Now for the even harder one.  “I have even less excuse for Pierce.  I did the same thing—fell for the façade and not the man.  _Have you ever settled for less than what you want because it’s all you think you can have?”_ Chloe asked harshly, almost desperately.  

“I _never_ loved Pierce, but I thought he was good and honest and decent and faithful and reliable—all those things my father was.  I was sure I’d come to love him, because he was everything I wanted, right?” Chloe snorted bitterly.  “And I thought, here it is—my chance to get the hero, even though I knew…I knew…I didn’t love him.  You’re the reason I agreed to marry him and the reason I ended things with him.  I settled, Lucifer.  I settled for the guy I thought was a hero, because I couldn’t…can’t have the Devil, but it’s the Devil I’m in love with.”

Lucifer stared at her for a long moment as he struggled to accept her words, a desperate hope in his eyes.

“I assure you, Detective,” Lucifer said with a saucy wink and a preening stretch, “that you can have the Devil anytime you like and in any position you desire,” he said seductively, reaching to undo the belt of his robe. 

Subconsciously, he was testing her, and she knew it.  She wasn’t sure if he was aware of it, but that’s precisely what he was doing.  Sex was the language Lucifer understood best, and in an emotional situation, it was his default setting.

Chloe rolled her eyes.  “Don’t you dare!”  And why, oh why, hadn’t she insisted he put some clothes on this morning?  “This is part of the reason I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Darling, I assure you….”

“No,” Chloe barked, cutting him off mid-sentence.  “Just no.  I can’t do this with you.”

“Whyever not?” Lucifer demanded.  “I thought this was what romantically attached humans did?”

Chloe sighed more from irritation than frustration.  “Because Lucifer, you and I aren’t on the same page, and it’s very unlikely that we’re ever going to be.”

A frown marred his handsome face, confusion and shock warring for dominance in his gaze.

“Clarify this “on the same page,” nonsense,” he demanded.  “Surely you wouldn’t still be here if you doubted my regard for you.”

And that she didn’t doubt.  He’d never actually said it, but knowing what she did now; he’d bled for her, killed for her, risked his life, courted his Father’s wrath—the very unmaking of his soul—for her sake.  She knew, but she was selfish enough that she wanted…

“Say it,” she demanded breathlessly.  “ _Please?”_

He bit his lips and cast his gaze toward the fire, hiding from her.  “You already have it from God on high.  It’s not as if I redacted anything He said to me.”  She waited patiently, staring at him expectantly, thinly veiled hope shining in her eyes.  At last, “I love you,” he breathed out in a gust, a long susurration of breath carrying the sweetest three words in any human language.  “If I can love, if it’s at all possible for the Devil to love anyone, know that I love you, Chloe.”

Chloe sagged in relief and in something else, a piercing ache knowing this was all she could have.  For the sake of her own sanity and sense of self-worth, they had reached the end point of their relationship.  She had wanted desperately to wait…to unveil this revelation months or maybe years from now, when Lucifer had had more time to grow and change.  As things stood…  They weren’t ready for this.  Hell, Lucifer might not _ever_ be ready for this.

“Chloe?” Lucifer asked, puzzled.  “Is that not what you wanted to hear?”

“No…,” she stuttered, “well…yes…but…where do we go from here?”

Now Lucifer looked truly confused.  “And…,” he said slowly, clearly looking for some deep insight and clarification.  “…bed is not an option?” he queried.

“No, it isn’t!” Chloe snapped.

“Why not?” Lucifer asked as if he were being perfectly reasonable.

“Because we’re not on the same page, Lucifer,” Chloe ground out through gritted teeth.

“You keep saying that!” Lucifer shouted back, temper clearly exacerbated beyond his ability to harness it.  “What in My Kingdom does that even mean?”

“I do relationships, deeply committed monogamous relationships with date night and sleepy Sunday morning lie-ins and French toast, and family game night, and picnics and Saturday movie marathons.  You do a different guy or woman every night, or several at a time, with spanking and bondage, and who the hell knows what else.  There’s a party every night around you, and most nights you’re doing a line of blow off some stripper’s ass.”

“And?” Lucifer demanded.  “How is this relevant?  You know my charms don’t work on you.  You have to tell me what you want, Chloe.  Are you asking me to fundamentally change everything about myself?  Do you want me to sell Lux?”

“No, of course not; you love Lux.  I would never ask you to sell it!”

“Then, what do you want?” Lucifer reiterated.

“Monogamy,” Chloe replied instantly.

“Why?” He countered just as quickly.  “I’m not refusing,” Lucifer stated at the wounded deer expression Chloe aimed at him.  “I want to know.  Why is this important to you?”

And of course Lucifer wouldn’t intuitively understand something like this; love and sex weren’t inexorably tied together in his psyche because he wasn’t human—hadn’t been raised in a culture that hopelessly intertwined the two.  Chloe looked down at the floor, gathering her thoughts.  “I want to be special to someone, to be the only one to share that kind of intimacy, to know that I’m enough.  I know it sounds lame, but after Dan cheated on me, it’s just something I need—a man to make a promise of fidelity and keep his word.  I need to know I’m not just another notch on a bedpost.”

“And what do you offer in return, Chloe?” Lucifer asked smoothly, settling back and crossing his mile long legs at the ankles, so much beautiful skin and muscle on display as shadow and firelight intertwined and danced across the tempting flesh.

“Excuse me?” Chloe squeaked.

Lucifer grinned wickedly.  “Surely you understood this was a negotiation.”

“No,” Chloe denied.  “Relationships aren’t about deals.”

“Of course they are,” Lucifer countered.  “Some are tacit; others are more explicit.  _You meet my needs, I’ll meet yours.  On the nights you cook, I wash up._   I may not have engaged in a relationship with a human, but half of the deals I make are about human relationships, and it seems to me the most successful ones are the ones where all parties are very clear about their needs and expectations.  So, I ask you again: what do you offer in return?”

Chloe opened and closed her mouth several times like a gasping goldfish before realizing Lucifer was right, damn him.  Heart hammering like a tripwire, she managed a strangled, “What do you want?”

Lucifer shook his head.  “Free will, darling.  What are you willing to offer?” he asked softly, a teasing smile playing about his lips.

“I suppose I could be open enough to try some of that kinky stuff you like,” Chloe gulped, not entirely sure what she was letting herself in for, but knowing absolutely that she trusted him.  If she were completely honest, she was excited just thinking about some of the things she’d always wanted to try.  And his sly, seductive smile told her that he knew it too.

“Done and done, Chloe,” Lucifer said smugly.

Chloe rolled her eyes.  “You’re really willing to have a monogamous relationship…with me?”

“I’ve told you before, I’m a Devil of my word,” he said as he held out his hand for the obligatory shake over the deal.

“I trust you, Lucifer.  This is an agreement with my _boyfriend_ , not a deal with the Devil.” 

“I’m afraid it’s both,” he said honestly, but he withdrew his hand, nevertheless. 

“I need a bit more … reassurance, Lucifer.  Are you really okay with this?  It’s not like I’ve ever known you to be faithful.  Are you certain this is really something you _want_ to do?”

“Yes, of course, Detective,” he said with a smug smirk.  “Do you honestly think any of my previous lovers wanted more from me, had any desire for exclusivity?  You interviewed them, Darling.  They had the ‘best night of their lives,’ and then they went on with their lives without giving me a second thought.” 

Chloe sighed, torn.  If she were being completely honest, and in her own mind there was no reason not to be, she had to acknowledge that this is where they had been heading for three years, where she very much wanted to go.  In a lot of ways, Lucifer wasn’t ready for a relationship of this magnitude—at least not by human standards.  But then again, he wasn’t human—she had to remember that.  He was probably never going to be completely ready, at least not in her meager human lifetime.  But, he was already willing to try harder than any man she had ever been with, and that had to count for something.  Chloe had no illusions; this was going to be work, and it was going to be rocky at times, and they were going to hurt each other, but, she really couldn’t see herself being truly happy and fulfilled with anyone but Lucifer. 

She had two options: jump into a relationship blindly, head first, with no safety net with a Divine being who, on most days, wasn’t ready to own a pet, and try to nurture him along as they both stumbled along blindly into a relationship, feeling their way along … or walk away forever.  There was no going back, not now – not when all of their cards were face up on the table.  And there was no way in Lucifer’s Kingdom she was ever going to walk away.  That choice had been made; it was always… always… going to be him. 

She was honest enough with herself to know that even if she had run, if he hadn’t confronted her at the elevator, she wouldn’t have gotten past the front door of Lux before she would have been turning around, running for the elevator, running back to him.

“What else?” he inquired smoothly, breaking into her thoughts.

“Alright,” Chloe said on a soft snort.  “I can’t believe I’m doing this.  But, okay.  No smoking around Trixie, at least three nights every week for me and family things, and we sleep together every night, whether it’s at my place or Lux; no matter how late you go to bed, it’s with me.”

Lucifer grinned.  “And no complaints about the drinking or doing a few lines of blow from a lovely lady’s backside?”

“If you were human, I’d be pretty worried just from a medical standpoint about the drinking and smoking and drugs…, but no.  You love Lux, and it is sort of part of the job description; it’s part of who you are.  As long as you don’t do anything else with the stripper’s ass, it’s not that big of a deal as long as Trixie doesn’t know and you never show up drunk or stoned at a crime scene or the precinct.  Oh, and if I’m here, like on a girl’s night or something, I don’t want to see it either,” she finished confidently. 

*****

Lucifer grinned mischievously, eyes sparkling delightedly, as he saw the loophole she did not.  Outside of Chloe’s presence, he really didn’t become inebriated or more than mildly impaired; so as long as he didn’t actively _try_ to become seriously impaired in her presence, he could easily meet her criterion.  And then a new thought struck him; perhaps it would be best _not_ to antagonize her too much by bending her rules.  He did want this to work out, after all. 

He felt his sultry grin slide into a soft, warm smile of absolute joy as the promise from what seemed so long ago was finally fulfilled...  one amazing moment standing on the sand, waves crashing in the distance—one perfect kiss.  This was _real._ They were going to do this.

*****

She considered asking for more, more time spent together as a family, a more stable, safe, and _normal_ relationship.  But Lucifer was right; if she wanted a relationship with him, it had to be with _him_.  She couldn’t demand that he fundamentally change everything about himself to suit her.  And, to be perfectly honest, she didn’t want to.  She loved the immature, inappropriate, brutally honest, childishly and joyously gleeful man-child he was.  She would welcome more, but if he were to change, it had to be because he wanted to, not because she demanded it.  He had to want it, and she was confident that as he became part of their family, he would want more too.  Besides, she had chosen stable and safe and normal twice now, and neither of those relationships had worked out well.  That had been what she had _wanted_ , but maybe not what she _needed_.  She was absolutely sure that Lucifer Morningstar, wildly inappropriate as he could be on occasion, was precisely what she needed.

“You have yourself a deal, Detective,” he purred.  “Now, about that bed…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:** “Please, baby, you had to know the Devil would be well endowed.”  ―  **Debra Anastasia,** **[Crushed Seraphim](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/16214256)**

 

***If the chapter header wasn’t sufficient, here is your warning; this is where the story takes a hard nosedive into that E rating you were warned about in the beginning.

 

“Have you ever heard the phrase, taking things slowly?” Chloe asked, exasperated.

“And are you familiar with the phrase, why put off until tomorrow what you can do today?” Lucifer said playfully.  “Besides, you know you want to, and really, Darling, what’s waiting ever really done for you before?”

Chloe wondered how she could have ever thought Lucifer wasn’t the Devil.  

Whether it was via sheer luck or some innate knowledge of human temptation, he had struck upon the two most persuasive arguments he could have used.  Chloe bit her lip.  She did want him; she’d been having sex dreams about Lucifer for well over a year, from that first kind of creepy one where he had horns/love handles to more recent ones where he threw her over her work desk and fucked her til the legs on the desk broke off with her coworkers cheering them on.  Now that was weird; all of her dreams were really.  Her subconscious definitely needed a juice cleanse.

And, he was right.  She’d waited with both Marcus and Dan, and that had certainly done nothing to ensure the strength and solidity of the relationship.  She wanted this, wanted him, and he…well, he needed this.  Lucifer spoke every language known to mankind as well as Celestial and Demon languages.  Yet, what he understood best was the physical—actions over words.  And who could blame him?  He had gone from being told he was loved, was special … to being cast into Hell when he asked for choice. 

Accepting that her love was real, that their relationship was real meant physically accepting him, knowing full well that he was The Devil and choosing him not in spite of that fact, nor because of it, but simply because she loved him.  She would show him with her body, tell him with her lips, until he believed her—that he was loved.

She stood up abruptly and held out her hand.  He wasted no time standing himself and grasping her outstretched hand tightly.

“Yes?” he asked, a sort of disbelieving, shy hope laced into that single word.

She smiled.  “Yes.”

No man had ever taken her to bed faster.  One moment she had been staring into Lucifer’s rather adoring eyes, absolutely besotted, and the next there was a flash of brilliant white and she landed gently in the center of Lucifer’s huge bed.  His robe was hanging open, and he knelt above her, her thighs pressed between his knees as he positively loomed above her, radiating raw, sexual power. 

She was no blushing virgin, but she was seized with an awkward, fluttery nervousness when he leaned forward and pinned her in place with his body weight, hands teasing the edges of her baggy sweatshirt, pushing upwards just enough to run delicate pianist’s fingertips across her low belly; she squirmed in either pleasure or anticipation, she wasn’t quite sure, as he played her as skillfully as he played his Steinway. 

His tongue was hot and moist along her exposed collarbones and at the juncture of neck and shoulder where the old sweatshirt gaped at the neck.  She shivered, helpless, her hands pinned now by Lucifer’s forearms as he slowly worked the sweatshirt up.  Her world was fast devolving into her, him, and a shivery, tremulous pleasure that was building low and hot in her belly.

“Let me have you, Chloe…let me…” he whispered, the heat of his breath followed by the moist tip of his tongue sending new shockwaves of pleasure along her sensitive ear.

“Lucifer, don’t you want this to be a little more equal?” she managed to squeeze out at last, shallow fluttery breaths insufficient to push out the words as his fingers found her nipples, and Chloe could do nothing but groan at that point.

“No,” ground out, raw and needy.  “So many things I’ve dreamed of doing to you, so much.  Let me have you…give yourself to me,” he demanded hotly as he pulled back to look her in the eyes.

And this was it, whether Lucifer realized he was doing it or not, Chloe saw the test for what it was.  Knowing he was the Devil, would she trust him, give him complete dominion over her body?   

Chloe held his eyes a moment and nodded before surrendering herself completely, body and soul, to The Devil.

**********

Chloe came awake in increments, first a vague, muzzy impression of consciousness, followed by filaments of lightness pressing in around the edges of her sleep dusted eyes, and then a general sense of hunger and, as she began to move, an awareness of a whole slew of heretofore undiscovered muscles making themselves known by the deep ache within them as she shifted, trying to simultaneously unwind the sheets from her legs and get out of the damp spot.  She learned two things very quickly.  Lucifer was already up, and there was nowhere on the bed that wasn’t the damp spot.

Chloe groaned softly and flushed scarlet.  Before last night, Chloe had heard of women who could come a dozen times, mostly in amateur porn, but she hadn’t believed it was possible; they were totally faking it.  Now, she wasn’t quite so sure, having lost count of her own orgasms after number five. 

Her first orgasm had taken her completely by surprise.  Lucifer had stripped her, slowly, caressing and kissing every square inch of skin as it was revealed.  The angel who had set the first stars afire had worshiped her last night with hands, and lips, and tongue.  Skin flushed with arousal, her entire being one sensitive nerve ending, he had slipped two fingers inside of her, both of them groaning as her body snugly but eagerly accepted him.  He had barely moved them, gazing into her wide-eyed, pleasure glazed eyes as he whispered, “Say my name, Chloe…say it, and come for me, Love.”

Chloe had screamed it, waves of pleasure tearing through her like a hurricane ripping apart a simple wooden pier.  Lucifer had sealed his mouth over hers and groaned deeply, a reverberation that passed directly from his soul to hers as he swallowed her pleasure, consuming it, making it his own and ultimately sharing it with her again as his thumb found her clit and coaxed a second wave out of her. 

She clung to him, but within moments, he was slipping away, only to settle between her damp, wantonly splayed thighs, a mischievous smile playing along his lips.  “I saw your *Womanizer front and center in your panty drawer, Love,” he said with a positively lascivious grin.  “Relax, Chloe, and enjoy this,” the tickle of his breath spreading tingles along her labia.

Well, hell.  That answered the question of who had been in her underwear drawer.  Not only had Lucifer seen her favorite sex toy, but he had also recognized it for precisely what it was—what it did.  She flushed scarlet at the implications.

“Lucifer, I’m sensitive.  I just came,” she cried desperately.

“I know,” he purred, as he began to press hot, open mouthed kisses on the slick, pink flesh, his tongue finding her clit unerringly, and…Oh God, the things he could do with his mouth.  Chloe was pretty much incoherent after that point. 

She’d always felt a bit guilty about receiving head; she’d never been with a man who genuinely enjoyed doing it.  It was a chore for Dan and Marcus, a price to be paid for quid pro quo, and even though it was never explicitly stated, she was no idiot. 

Lucifer didn’t just enjoy it; he positively _luxuriated_ in it, moaning into her overheated flesh, rubbing his raspy, ticklish stubble against her soaked labia, kissing and gently nipping her clit and thighs, and the little gasped exclamations, “Ohh yesss, Chloe, let go Love,” broke a damn inside of her, let her enjoy it beyond anything she had ever experienced before.  She found herself spreading her thighs wider, tipping her hips upwards, and shamelessly feeding the Devil her pussy, and every groan, every kiss from him egged her on.  And when he slipped a finger inside at just the right moment, the long muscles in her thighs quaking, her body tore itself apart with pleasure. 

He spent the next several rounds alternating between feeding her his hot, slick tongue coated in her essence while simultaneously getting her off with his fingers, and licking her pussy into submission to the point where she couldn’t stop shamelessly begging him to eat her out. 

At some point, she came to awareness with him kneeling between her splayed thighs.  “Devil’s Horns,” he whispered lewdly before sucking the middle two fingers of his right hand down to the base while simultaneously wiggling the index and pinky fingers—horns—as he pulled the saliva slick digits from his lips with an obscene slurp.  Chloe had a feeling she knew where those were going.

She gasped as they slid into her sensitive opening.  “Ready, Darling?” he asked as he began a choppy, somewhat rough fucking motion.  Chloe squirmed a bit, uncertain.  It felt good, but it hurt a little too.  She groaned, unsure, as a strange pressure began to build, balanced on the razor’s edge between agony and ecstasy.

“Lucifer?” she called wildly, a little frightened.

“Let it happen, Chloe.”

“What?” she gurgled out, the strange pleasure-pain building, stoking the pressure inside.

“You’re going to squirt, Love, just let it happen.”

“I don’t…I’m not a squ…” she choked out, but the pressure continued to build, and she flailed from side to side, trying to pull away, trying to get more stimulation, trying to …

Chloe screamed as the pressure exploded, the forceful release a harbinger of pleasure as her entire being turned to molten liquid and squirted out of her body in perfect time with the waves of her climax washing through her and the slamming beat of her own heart.  And whatever Lucifer was doing down there was simply prolonging the waves as the pleasure went on and on and on.

Chloe had flopped back onto the bed like a marionette with its strings cut.  She was done…she was so done.  But Lucifer wasn’t.  He slid up her body, and she understood now why the Bible had likened the Devil to a snake, smooth and fluid and graceful, mesmerizing.  He’d pulled her leg up around his hip and slid slowly home.  And even after being stretched out by his fingers, he was big…bigger than any man or toy she’d ever taken, and if she hadn’t been positively soaked with her own juices, she’d be hurting right now.  As it was, she was full to the brim of hot velvet over steel. 

She tried to communicate that she was done, that she was just hanging on for the ride, but Lucifer wasn’t letting her off so easily.  He was doing something with his hips that was sending little zings of pleasure straight through her core and into her spinal column.  And despite her exhaustion, she found herself tightening her legs around his hips, whimpering for more.  And he gave it to her.  He was jackhammering her now, and she would be so sore tomorrow, but she really, really didn’t care.  She had thought she was done…but maybe not…no, definitely not, as she felt every muscle in her lower body clamp down on him and milk him as an intense orgasm tore through her senses, leaving her weak and shaken.  He fucked her through it, prolonging it, before slamming home and releasing a cry of pleasure that could probably be heard in Hell itself. 

She was pretty sure she’d passed out at that point.

A tiny part of her felt guilty for acting like a complete slut; she had always considered herself to be … well, for lack of a better term, a good girl.  But another part of her had enjoyed living out the fulfillment of a fantasy.  She had always wondered what it would be like to be absolutely worshiped sexually, just for one night.  How many orgasms could she have?  What would it be like, just once?  She had dropped a few hints hoping that for a birthday or a Valentine’s Day, Dan might… but when the hints got too pointed, he’d snapped, “Jeez, Chlo, sex isn’t just all about you, you know.”  She’d never mentioned it again.  She hadn’t had the nerve to even suggest it to Marcus.  Something had told her that such a suggestion would be shot down without a second thought.  Learning that he really was Cain had explained a lot about that innate selfish streak he tried so hard to conceal, but could never hide completely.  But Lucifer had unselfishly gifted her with something so special, and she hadn’t even had to ask; he’d done it simply because he wanted to.

She staggered like a drunk on a weekend bender into the shower, newly discovered muscles achy and uncooperative.  One sinfully long hot shower later, and she felt at least somewhat human.  She damp dried her hair with Lucifer’s blow dryer, leaving it loose to finish air drying.  She found another wrapped toothbrush and helped herself, and then positively drowned every inch of her skin in that sinfully rich moisturizer.  It probably cost as much as a nice dinner out, by Lucifer’s standards—not hers, but she now had an item to put on her Christmas wish list. 

When she exited Lucifer’s en suite, she found someone had tidied up—the sheets changed, bed made, and her clothes gone.  She looked around helplessly before going back into the bathroom and exchanging the bath towel she was currently wearing for Lucifer’s black robe; the sleeves she rolled up to keep them from obscuring her hands, but otherwise it fit okay.  It smelled like him, and she positively luxuriated in the masculine, heady scent of her lover.  She would have to seek out Lux’s master to find her clothes, if she wanted them, which, to her surprise, she wasn’t all that eager to exchange the robe for her old sweatshirt.  But first, she needed food.

Making her way to the kitchen, she found a crockpot on ‘warm’ containing a thick, rich beef stew.  After she plowed her way through a large bowlful, she located her purse, the contents of which were no longer spilled across the penthouse’s foyer but had been replaced in her bag.  She called Trixie, who Dan had apparently pawned off on his parents for the weekend; her conniving daughter was having an absolutely marvelous time at Disney, and had even had Mickey Mouse pancakes for breakfast.  After a dire warning about not taking advantage of her Abuela and Abuelo, Chloe disconnected the call and plugged her phone in to recharge before checking her messages, as her battery was down to a 14% charge.  The time flashed onscreen as she did so, and she mentally cursed.  The light she thought she’d imagined as she’d orgasmed and passed out hadn’t been a hallucination but the first rays of dawn sunlight.  Lucifer had literally made love to her all night long.  It was 4:47pm according to her phone and confirmed by the microwave.  Goddammit, her days and nights were totally fucked all to hell.

Speaking of Hell, just where was its Lord and Master? 

 

*Chapter End Notes: A Womanizer is a sex toy made specifically for women to simulate the experience of oral sex.  Here is a link to the most popular model on the company’s website; this is also the model I am envisioning for Chloe:  <https://www.womanizer.com/gl/womanizer-pro-black-gold>

They can be had in a variety of colors, brand new and sealed from several authorized dealers on ebay for around $100 US. 

Please forgive any awkwardness in the sex scene.  Writing sex is just not my forte.  As always, feedback will be nurtured and treasured for a lifetime.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:** “God saves - but not now, and not here. His salvation is on layaway. Like all grifters, He asks you to pay now and take it on faith that you will receive later. Whereas women offer a different sort of salvation, more immediate and fulfilling. They don't put off their love for a distant, ill-defined eternity but make a gift of it in the here and now, frequently to those who deserve it least. So it was in my case. So it is for many. The devil and woman have been allies against God from the beginning...” ―  **Joe Hill,** **[Horns](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/6781405)**

****

She found him out on the balcony wearing nothing but a low slung pair of burgundy silk pajama bottoms and nothing else, standing at the balcony rail and staring out toward the empty, cloud dappled sky.  He had showered recently, damp curly hair sans product lent an aura of youthful innocence to his profile as Chloe observed him from an angle.  He had probably foregone the blow dryer for fear of waking her and simply finger combed the damp locks.  As the golden sunlight limned and caressed his form, she remembered he was the Lightbringer, the most beautiful of the angels, and she wondered again how she could have ever doubted him.  He was truly beautiful.

“Lucifer,” she said softly, hesitantly, uncertain about breaking into his thoughts.  He was clearly in deep contemplation, idly turning a crystal tumbler of what looked to be a dark whiskey or bourbon in his nimble fingers, but he turned, a smile, a real smile, gracing his features as he found Chloe had crossed the room and now stood just outside the open balcony doors.

“Darling,” he greeted her exuberantly, and held out his hand.  She took his proffered hand and found herself smoothly pulled across the balcony.  Lucifer had reclining chaise lounges on either side of the partially shaded balcony with thick, memory foam cushions that made them look like something that should be at a high end resort.  She was fairly certain in a pinch they could easily double as a bed and probably had during some of the orgies the penthouse had hosted in the past. 

In less time than it took for her to utter a shocked, “Lucifer!” he had laid back in one of the lounges and had Chloe firmly ensconced on top of him, her legs spread across his thighs and her breasts pressed firmly to his chest as he nuzzled the top of her head with the artfully sculpted five o’clock shadow adorning his chin.

“Just relax, Darling.  I thought you told me you liked to cuddle,” he purred, as he wrapped warm arms around her waist and shoulders, carding his fingers through the long strands of her hair.  Chloe sighed and settled; she adored having her hair played with, but she would never admit to it aloud.  She wriggled, and then wriggled again, sliding down her exceedingly tall lover.  The 30 degree tilt at the upper part of the chaise had had her lower-spine bent a little awkwardly backwards, causing all of those already unhappy muscles to twinge in anger.  She sighed in contentment as she came to rest with her nose pressed to Lucifer’s sternum, the slight adjustment doing wonders for her comfort.  Lucifer “hmmmed” in appreciation, the movement doing wonders for him as well.  Giving a little wiggle and a slight upwards thrust of his hips as Chloe slid down, the friction of her mons and low belly creating a lovely sensation sliding along his hardening cock.

“No,” Chloe grunted.  “Don’t even think about it.  I’m almost too sore to walk as it is.”  And if she expected sympathy from the Devil, she had another think coming.  He laughed, long and hard, the reverberations passing from his skin to hers in lightly tickling waves.  She hazarded a glance upward to see him positively preening, as if she had complimented him, and she supposed, in a way, she had. 

“Ungghh,” Chloe huffed on a grunt and flopped back down trying to decide if it was worth it to try to get up and storm off when it was a) going to stretch all of those already aching muscles and b) look awkward as hell trying to climb off of Lucifer’s lap without the robe flapping open and flashing him.  She decided against it; he was incredibly warm, the shaded part of the balcony easily ten degrees cooler than the part that received full sun, and she did, in fact, like to cuddle—very much so.  And, despite the fact that Lucifer had no experience cuddling, or maybe because of it, he was very, very good at it; the soft, slow motions of his hands explored and caressed her so gently, made her feel so loved and safe. 

It was a part of herself she couldn’t share with anyone else.  To show this kind of weakness to Dan or Marcus would have been career suicide.  Neither of them could seem to separate who she was outside of work, away from the job, from Homicide Detective Chloe Decker.  Dan had proved that so many times, treating her like his wife at work, and not a seasoned cop with a better solve rate than he had.  And Marcus…Cain…just best not go there; it was an innate part of his nature to identify a perceived weakness and then ruthlessly exploit it.  A part of her sensed that in him, and she wondered anew that she had ever been so stupid. 

And so with Dan and Marcus, she had had to content herself with a few minutes of post coital cuddling, because it was expected.  Lucifer who had no relationship experience, ironically, also had no expectations of who Chloe should be.  He had seen her broken and bleeding on a concrete floor begging not to die, as well as naked in her own kitchen and everything in between and never once treated her as anything but a woman worthy of his respect…and love, which still shocked the hell out of her and was going to take some getting used to.

She was startled from her thoughts by the feeling of long, nimble fingers undoing the knot at the far side of her waist.

“Lucifer,” she said warningly.

“Ssshhh,” was his reply as he slid the robe down and it spilled to the floor like a silken waterfall.  She made a grab for it while simultaneously trying to cover her breasts.  “Trust me, Chloe,” he whispered as he held her gently against him.

Chloe hesitated for a long minute, the more modest side of her at war with her common sense, which was laughing up a storm since Lucifer had gotten a good, long look at not only her breasts but other, more intimate body parts, as he got up close and personal with her womanhood just last night.  She settled back down, still blushing, as she heard a soft plastic click and felt a drizzle of something cool across her back.  She opened her eyes to see a long arm set a bottle of oil on the tile next to them.  She looked past the brown bottle, and realized that Lucifer had reached over and snagged one of the buckets he kept on the balcony for guests.  The large buckets each contained several rolled towels, several kinds of suntan oil and lotion, and an assortment of sunglasses; she had never looked but they were probably Ray Bans.  Farther down, more discreetly concealed, she could see the small foil packets of assorted condoms and what looked like bottles of Astroglide and Gun Oil.

She let out a surprised moan as he began to rub, the oil acting like massage cream as he dug strong fingertips into the tight muscles around her shoulder blades and languidly worked down from there. 

“Don’t worry, it’s organic—just saffron and coconut oil,” Lucifer said softly as Chloe tried to pull her hair out of the way.  Chloe hummed in agreement, too blissed out to explain that she didn’t give a rat’s ass whether he got it in her hair or up her nose for that matter—she just wanted to give him unobstructed access to every muscle in her body.  Oh, he was good at this.

The massage continued, and by the time he had worked her glutes and thighs, Chloe was beginning to feel her muscles flutter with something besides the pain of too much lactic acid—desire.

The completely hard dick digging into her low belly was doing nothing to quell the aforementioned desire, either.  Chloe squirmed, conflicted.

“Oohhh,” she moaned again, even more conflicted, as Lucifer dragged a fingertip lightly along her wet labia.  “Still sore, Lucifer,” she mumbled, peeved that he’d put her in this position.

“There are other paths to pleasure,” he murmured back, stroking one slick, oily fingertip right across the tightly furled rosebud of her anus.

Chloe didn’t…hadn’t ever….  Her brain short circuited at the very idea of putting something the size of a very large cucumber into an opening the size of a raspberry.  “Hell no…you first,” she cried out indignantly.

“Why Detective!” Lucifer growled in an aroused purr, eyes lighting up in raw lust, “I had no idea you’d so thoroughly embraced your kinky side.  It’s been positively ages since I’ve had a good rogering!”

“I…uhhh…I…,” Chloe stammered trying desperately not to hyperventilate.

“You want to fuck me,” Lucifer cried out gleefully.  “Fabulous!  There are several strap-ons in the toy closet; pick your poison.  You do know where the toy closet is, right?  And don’t forget the lube.”

“No,” Chloe announced in a choked whisper.  She couldn’t do this; she had promised Lucifer that she’d be open minded, but she really wasn’t sure she was ready for this.  It’s not like it wasn’t an intriguing idea though, and she probably … maybe … would have tried it …maybe…except… “Lucifer, even though I haven’t done that before, I do know how they work.  I know there’s a dildo that goes inside the woman too and usually a piece of silicone that also rubs the clit—hell, some of them even vibrate.  I really am too sore.  If anything constantly stimulates me, my clit especially, part of me is gonna burst into flames.”

He offered an understanding smile.  “Of course, how selfish of me.”

And the irony of it all was that he wasn’t being the least bit selfish.  He’d gotten one orgasm out of last night, and she’s had at least a dozen.  He’d seen to her pleasure many times over before his own.  Now, he was hard, probably aching a bit and needed to come after having a warm, naked woman squirming on top of him for an hour.  Even if both situations were kind of his own doing, she still very much wanted to please him.

“Gimmee the bottle,” she demanded as she sat back on her heels, straddling Lucifer’s knees, and held her hand out, uncaring about her own nakedness.  He handed it to her, a confused little frown wrinkling the skin between his brows.  She tugged his lounge pants down past his knees and poured a generous amount of the oil into her left hand until it spilled over the top to pool in his navel.  She handed the bottle back and rubbed her palms together.  It had been a while since she’d given a hand job, but she hoped she still had a few skills.

Lucifer gasped at the first touch and began to huff out long, low breaths that gradually bled into soft groans as she continued, enjoying the slick slide of her hands against the thick, hard velvety shaft.  He shifted, holding her hips to steady her as he kicked the pajama pants the rest of the way off and onto the floor.  When she was once again stable, Chloe braced her left hand on the cushion next to him and leaned forward.  With their height difference, she couldn’t quite reach his lips with her own without overbalancing, but she could reach his nipples, and she proceeded to lavish them with attention, licking, sucking, and nipping tiny little bites that she subsequently soothed with her tongue before starting the entire process again.

“Look at me, Lucifer,” she demanded, as she saw only the long column of his throat, his head thrown back and his teeth biting into his lower lip.

He tipped his head forward slowly and opened his eyes, the flames of hell searing the black orbs.  It was a little scary.  It was also hot as hell, no pun intended.

At that moment, she wondered if anyone had ever asked him…

“What do you desire, Lucifer?  Tell me what you want…”

“Chloe,” he rasped, voice gravelly and deeply aroused, “Darling…suck my cock.”

Chloe slid lower, letting her mouth tease down his chest, slipping her tongue into his belly button obscenely before letting her lips and tongue tease down the dark treasure trail to his hard, slick cock.  The oil wasn’t delicious, but neither was it unpleasant, and she soon had a slow rhythm going, using her hands to stroke his shaft and balls and sucking and licking the head.  It would take some time and practice to deep throat Lucifer.  Not that he was complaining, far from it, in fact.  She looked up to see him with his head turned to the side, eyes tightly closed, and he was biting his lip so hard it was probably bleeding into his mouth.

“I want to do this for you,” Chloe whispered loud enough so that she was sure he could hear her, her hands continuing to stroke, thumb swiping through the moisture to caress the head and tickle the tiny, flared slit.  “Want to make you feel so good,” she moaned softly, but nothing changed.  “Lucifer, look at me,” she demanded.  He ducked a quick glance at her; his eyes smoldering fully with the flames of hell.  “I love you,” she insisted when he finally held her gaze.  His eyes widened slightly and his face ‘slipped’ before ‘slipping’ quickly back to normal. There was really no other word for it.  One moment he was Lucifer, and the next he was the monster, for lack of a better term—maybe _Other Lucifer_ \--…before he changed back, turned his face away again and bit his lip.

Tiny light bulbs began going off in Chloe’s head.  Lucifer had said that the monster was tied to his emotions, specifically rage.  But what if it wasn’t?  What if it was actually tied to any really strong emotion … including… say…love?  Which now left him struggling to hold it back—something he had never had to do before.  And he was clearly losing this battle.

“Chloe, stop, please,” he begged as he began to push her away, clearly panicking.  He was going to run.  She had a matter of seconds before he pulled away—perhaps forever.

She pushed herself forward, lined up and impaled herself on him in one smooth motion.  And she had been right; it hurt—thank goodness for the oil.  She ignored it and put a slippery hand on each of his shoulders and used her slight weight to pin him, willing to bet that the shock of her actions would keep him there for just long enough.

“I love you,” she enunciated clearly.  “And I’m going to keep saying it until you believe me, until you accept it.  I don’t care if you lose control.  I want you to.”

“You can’t want that vile creature touching you—inside of you,” he demanded harshly, almost hysterically, as his hands tightened on her upper arms.  He was going to lift her off.

She, in turn, put one hand on either side of his face, cupping gently, forcing him to look at her.  “It’s just you, Lucifer, and I’ve told you before, I will never see you as some vile creature.  I love you,” she whispered again as she began to move, hips rising and falling slowly, making love to her Devil, letting her body speak to him in his language.  “I will always love you,” she insisted.  “Let go…let it all go.”

He looked at her then as if he couldn’t look away, eyes blazing with hellfire and an uncertain hope as his skin flashed from white to red without ever passing through a single shade of pink.  He lost control of the wings next, and they spilled across the floor in a Divine crumple, twitching and curling at the tips, radiating brilliant white light in small bursts as pleasure grew between them.  As Lucifer neared completion, he put his hands on Chloe’s hips, pulling her into the small thrusts he was able to make from his mostly supine position.  He flinched and looked away when he saw the blood colored claw-like hands clutching her pure flesh.

She removed her hands from his shoulders, which she had been using to stabilize herself as she rode him, and clutched his face again, forcing him to return her gaze.

“I love you,” she repeated and leaned forward to kiss him, letting herself overbalance, knowing with every fiber of her being that he would catch her … that he would always catch her.

And when orgasm came, along with the blinding pleasure came a few tears and whispered “I love yous” from both of them.  Afterwards, Chloe simply collapsed across Lucifer in pretty much the same position in which she had begun the afternoon, albeit somewhat damper and a little sticky.  She dozed.  There would be plenty of time to clean up later.

“I love you, Lucifer,” she whispered a bit later, softly petting the now white skin across his chest and shoulder…the part her cheek wasn’t resting on.  Lucifer’s breath hitched.  That was alright.  He wasn’t as comfortable as she was with the words; they would come in time.  She would teach him to communicate in her language as well as his, both verbal and physical; she would teach him about both love and acceptance.

She had realized as she’d tried to pleasure him that a blow job...even sex… hadn’t been what he needed.  Perhaps it had been what he desired, for he was always truthful with her.  It had come to her at last, a small epiphany overriding all else.  She had asked him earlier if he had ever settled for something because he couldn’t have what he truly wanted.  Lucifer had spent his entire, very long life settling.

Cast out of his home, he had eked out what tiny bit of happiness and contentment he could in Hell.  And even here, on earth, he had settled for getting high and fucking anything that moved because he didn’t think anyone could give him what he really wanted.

Once, long ago, he had asked for what he truly desired, truly needed…and it wasn’t free will, not precisely.  What he’d asked for was acceptance.  In asking for free will, he had tacitly asked to be accepted for wanting more, for desiring something above and beyond what he had been created for.  And rather than accept that His son was evolving, growing, becoming something other than the obedient child who carried out orders without question, God had cast his own child into Hell and barred the Gates of Heaven against him.

Lucifer was no virgin, but Chloe vowed she would be the first person ever to give him what he had never had before.  She would look at him, all of him, and accept him for everything he was.  And sure, he was immature at times, lacked any sort of brain to mouth filter, was as emotionally evolved as an enlightened eggplant on some days and demonstrated as much insight into human interpersonal relations as a pet rock, and let’s not forget that in the Merriam Webster dictionary Lucifer’s picture was under the very definition of ‘inappropriate’—cross-referenced to sexually explicit, along with the fact that he could be as volatile and explosive as methane gas and an open flame.  But, there were all of the good things too: generous, and kind, and charming, and smart, and funny…and she was under no illusions that it was on his own merits that Dan had eluded jail time after the whole Palmetto Street/Malcolm debacle or that if Lucifer hadn’t helped her a dozen times over that she’d be dead and Trixie would be growing up without a mom.  And he was uncomfortable with children, but he was trying with Trixie—really trying, and that meant more to her than any words she could ever say.

And no matter what, she would keep telling him, and keep showing him until he believed it.

And when he did, she suspected that his Devil face would be gone, unless he consciously desired to manifest it to punish someone.  She remembered what he’d said, his conversation with his Father.  Lucifer made his own reality, and when he finally came to believe her and no longer saw himself as a monster…

Which brought another thought immediately on its heels.  Lucifer chose to be vulnerable when Chloe was near.  Was he simply a vulnerable Archangel, or was he more human than Divine?  If he made himself mostly human, that meant…  She moved her hand down between them to lightly cup her palm over her uterus, and a fierce surge of joy suffused her as she pictured a child, a dark, curly haired, brown-eyed little boy, inquisitive and mischievous and so very loved.  She had gotten her depo injection just last week, as she did every month for the simple reason that they made her periods lighter and easier; the birth control effects were a side benefit.  But now…  She and Lucifer would need to talk, but that was a conversation for another night—sometime far into the future.

She shivered.  The sun had long since cleared the horizon, and the first stars bright enough to make themselves known through the pollution and light surrounding LA were manifesting above.

“Do you want to go inside, Darling?” Lucifer asked softly, and she could feel his muscles beginning to tense in preparation to help her up.

“Not yet,” Chloe whispered in reply.  “Keep me warm?” she asked quietly, and was surprised when she felt a soft flutter of wings as Lucifer drew them up and around them both, cocooning her in a cozy warmth more snug than the softest eiderdown.  She sighed softly.  She had never been much of an exhibitionist, but she hoped God and the rest of the winged assholes up there could see them. 

That bitter, vindictive thought was soon followed by a feeling of unease roiling like nausea in her guts.  There was going to be  _Hell_ to pay for this.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:** “But what if the devil is just a woman who was banished to hell to stoke the flames as punishment for standing up to Him?” 

―  **Amanda Lovelace,** **[The Witch Doesn't Burn in This One](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/55649562)**

 

Chloe pulled the quilt from the guest bed tighter around her shoulders as she stood on the balcony staring at the stars, almost washed out by the lights of LA.  It was very, very late or very, very early, relative to one’s perspective, of course, but Chloe couldn’t sleep.  She’d slept too well and much too late the previous two days and was now pie eyed while Lucifer slept the sleep of the emotionally exhausted in the master bedroom.  Not wanting to wake him with her tossing and turning, she had risen well over an hour ago to pace and ultimately stare out at the mostly sleeping city.

She needed to sleep.  In a very few hours, Charlotte’s memorial service was scheduled to begin.  She’d gone a few rounds via text message with Dan over whether Trixie should be allowed to attend.  Surprisingly, Lucifer agreed with Dan; death was a part of life, he had argued.  The “sticky little urchin” was old enough to understand that.  Although she had only met Charlotte a few times, Trixie had liked her a lot.  Perhaps her precocious and empathetic daughter had sensed that this woman would become her stepmother…but for Cain.  Whatever the reason, Lucifer had argued, the child had the right to closure, the right to say her goodbyes.  And so Chloe had relented, sensing the rightness of letting Trixie remember Charlotte and grieve her loss.

But Lucifer wasn’t going, at least not until everyone else had left.  Dan had made no secret of the fact that he did not, under any circumstances, want the police consultant there.  He blamed Lucifer for Charlotte’s death, for not disclosing that Pierce was the Sinnerman, for allowing the viper to nest in their very hearts.  Dan was hurt, grieving, and furiously, unreasonably angry—maybe even a tad bit unhinged about all of it.  But they were going to have to talk soon.  Maybe Lucifer should have told them, but there was no way on God’s green earth Dan would ever have believed him.  He had always considered Lucifer even more of a whack-job than Chloe did.  Of the two of them, she had been the one more likely to believe Lucifer’s crazy theories, indulged his Biblical metaphors far more than Dan ever would have, and even she hadn’t believed him when he’d told her Pierce was dangerous, the world’s first murderer. 

And now she and Lucifer were together.  She didn’t want to rub her happiness in Dan’s face, but the reality was he was going to have to accept it.  They had to co-parent a child together; he was simply going to have to get over it.  She and Lucifer would have to decide together how much to tell Dan, or rather show him.  They had briefly discussed  it a bit earlier, and Lucifer had confided that Dan was surprisingly resistant to the influence of Divine artifacts, but that didn’t mean that putting him through a similar existential crisis to her own was the right thing to do… a discussion for another day. 

She had known a relationship with Lucifer would be difficult.

Chloe sighed.  Something else was bothering her, refusing to allow her mind to quiet, to rest.  “She is your redemption.”  She had turned God’s words to Lucifer over and over in her mind.  Something…some meaning teased at the edges of her mind.  Linda had told her how Amenadiel had gotten his wings back; how he had punished himself and become a fallen angel…getting his wings back only when he deemed himself worthy, and was subsequently allowed entrance into heaven again.

Lucifer had fallen—not his own doing but God’s.  He had been punished—condemned to rule Hell for eternity, not counting a few vacations.  He had cut his wings off—his divine leash.  They had remained gone until Lucifer had tangibly proven his love for Chloe, a human.  At that moment, he had fulfilled God’s original demand, that he love humanity, and even if it was just one human, it seemed that Lucifer had technically rectified the condition that got him cast out of heaven; he had gotten his wings back.

At that point, unlike Amenadiel, Lucifer hadn’t been fully redeemed.  Amenadiel had gone home to the Silver City, as Lucifer called it.  God had said that Chloe was Lucifer’s redemption.  He loved her.  And she loved him, but apparently that wasn’t enough.  So, there had to be something more…she had to…?

“Oh, you bastard,” Chloe swore softly as the full implication of the rest of their conversation became clear; she had thought to put this off for a few decades, at least, but...  She grabbed a discarded, nearly empty scotch bottle Lucifer had abandoned on the balcony hours ago and, holding it by the neck, broke it clumsily against the railing.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Chloe turned abruptly to find a strange, scruffy, salt and pepper sixtyish gentleman standing a few feet away, leaning casually against the railing, mostly concealed in the deeper shadows at the edges of the balcony.

She started abruptly before realizing that this wasn’t some weird stalker hiding out on Lucifer’s balcony.  “God,” she acknowledged, steeling her resolve.  If she thought about the fact that she was confronting an all-powerful deity older than recorded time, she knew she would back down.  She couldn't...wouldn't think about it.  “I’m right, aren’t I?” Chloe asked steadily, refusing to cower...to back down.

“And if you are?” He answered as he walked further into the glow from the penthouse’s lights.

In reply, Chloe brought the sharp shard at the end of the bottle’s neck to her left palm and sliced across it quickly.  Blood welled instantly, her cut far deeper in her anger than she had intended.  She was going to need stitches and a lot of them soon.  Chloe ignored it.

“Chloe, My Child, think about what you’re doing, about what you’re sacrificing for The Devil.”

Chloe fisted her hand in a futile attempt to slow the bleeding.  “There is really no sacrifice.  Had I died an atheist, there would have been nothing afterwards.”

“But now there is, and you can have it Chloe, an eternity with Trixie and her children and your mother and father, and the rest of your family,” God whispered seductively.

“Now who’s the snake?” Chloe spat accusingly, and looking Him in the eye, she whispered fervently, “No wonder Lucifer makes deals all the time; nothing’s ever free with you is it?  Trixie will have many people in her life whether she goes to Heaven or Hell, and while I hope she doesn’t feel agonizing guilt, I have no control of how she chooses to live her life.  Anyway, she won’t need me then, not like she does now.  Because that’s what parents _do;_ we raise our kids to the best of our abilities, give them unconditional love and a strong foundation, and then let them go so that they can live their own lives—become their own person.  And I’m okay with that; even if I can’t be with her…with the rest of my friends and family… in Heaven, at least I know they’ll have each other and that they’re safe and happy.  Lucifer has no one else.  Besides, I’m not so sure I want to spend eternity feeling like I’m high on drugs.”

Chloe swallowed hard and looking God dead in the eye as she clearly and calmly stated, “I, Chloe Decker, swear, and with my own blood binding my oath, that I _choose_ Lucifer, and if that means that I go to Hell upon my death, so be it.”  Chloe opened her hand and let the blood spill freely.

“Give Me your hand, Child,” God said softly.

Chloe held out her hand expecting a handshake or something to seal the bargain and was startled to see the soft, white glow as it healed, no scar, no mark of any kind.

“I’ll just cut it again,” she uttered harshly.

“Just as Lucifer kept cutting off his wings.  The two of you are well matched.  But, no, that is not necessary.  I will bear witness to your blood oath, although a simple “I choose him” would have sufficed.”

“You had to know what I’d choose.  You’re supposed to be omniscient, after all, so why all of this?” Chloe asked as she spread her hands wide and gestured toward the master bedroom where Lucifer was sleeping soundly.

“Aaaah, the grand gesture,” the old man mused.  “My son is the most melodramatic creature I have ever created, Chloe; Samael--Lucifer … does … not … do … subtle,” he enunciated each word carefully with a small, indulgent smile.  “And,” he continued tiredly, a note of almost regret lacing his weary intonation, “because you didn’t know, not for sure, and neither did Lucifer.  You both needed to know; you chose each other over anything … everything else.  And just for the record, you are welcome in Heaven anytime, Chloe Decker,” God said with a small, sad smile, “after your death, of course.  No more early visits with Gabriel.”

“Lucifer too?” she demanded.

“Yes, you were right.  Your love and willingness to sacrifice your own redemption for his has earned both of you welcome to the Silver City…”

Chloe turned to go.

“But, Child,” God called, “Do not tell him.  He isn’t ready.”

“Isn’t that his decision to make?” Chloe countered.

God sighed.  “There are things that Lucifer must learn the hard way…always the hard way.”

Chloe’s eyes narrowed.  “You said Celestials make their own reality.  Lucifer suffered those burns for eons because he believed he was being punished, didn’t he?” She demanded as she rounded on God.

“And if he did?”

“What kind of a father does that?  You could have told him!” she exclaimed angrily.

“He did not want to see Me, nor would he have believed Me,” God defended.

Chloe gave a disbelieving snort.  “Do You have any idea how childish You sound?  I don’t know what’s worse, what You did to Your own son or the fact that You didn’t even try telling him he could heal himself.”

“You cannot tell him anything.  He is very stubborn.  He would not have accepted his healing or his redemption without something more, something…someone… like you.  Have you even met my son?”

“Have you?” Chloe retorted sharply.  “And yeah, he’s been conditioned to think he’s worthless, that everyone is going to abandon him and that he isn’t worthy of love.  But you know what, that’s when you dig your heels in and tell him you love him and you’re not ever going to abandon him as many times as it takes for him to believe you.”  Chloe said hotly, staring him down before she spun on her heel and made her way back inside.

“My son chose well,” was whispered softly on the wind, never to be heard by a human soul.

And as she crawled quietly and gently back into bed, trying not to wake her sleeping lover, she vowed that God could go beat sand.  She’d tell Lucifer everything in the morning, and he could make his own decision.  If he wanted to fly straight to the Silver City and visit the siblings who wanted to see him, she’d support him fully.  If not, then that was his choice to make.  As Lucifer sleepily wrapped around her and turned her into the little spoon, she relaxed fully into his embrace and decided that the Queen of Hell had a nice ring to it.  Tomorrow, she would begin giving her input to Gabriel and Lucifer about reforming the Celestial Justice System.  For right now, though, she would sleep safely in the arms of The Devil who loved her.

The End.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this, please leave feedback. Your words are the only "payment" authors receive for the many, many hours of work that go into their stories. Also, if you would, please take a moment to send a shout out to my beta readers who made this story immeasurably better than it was.


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